American Hudmel Story
by VampireGirlWithTheFangyFangs
Summary: After Burt and Carole's recent wedding, the Hudson-Hummel family decide that they want a fresh new start. Unfortunately, they are unaware that their new home is haunted by its past inhabitants. Based off of American Horror Story and Glee. Very AU.
1. Pilot

**Yes, I know I have about a dozen other stories going, but this wouldn't leave me alone. **

**Now, fans of the first season of American Horror Story may notice that things in this story differ from the actual series. I've done this to make each storyline more true to the characters - for example, I highly doubt Burt would cheat on Carole straight after getting married (if at all). I've also missed out a few bits, but that's just to make it simpler****. **

**Enjoy!**

Pilot

Present day

"Is it just me, or is the sun brighter out here?" Finn asked innocently, beaming out the window.

His step-brother looked up from his copy of Vogue, raising a well-plucked eyebrow. "First of all, Finn, it's Los Angeles, so it's a lot brighter than Lima. Second, it's not sun. It's smog."

"Ah, come on," Burt muttered, grinning at the two teenagers in the backseat. "It's nice. Just be glad we're not in Ohio, Kurt."

Kurt silently agreed, and closed his magazine. "I need the bathroom."

"We're on the freeway," Carole reminded him, not looking up from her book. "We can't. Anyway, it's only a few miles away."

Finn blinked. "Mom, I need the bathroom too. Can we pull over?"

The older teenager rolled his eyes. "Let me guess; the bumbling baby wants to pee so now we can pull over."

"Kurt," Burt warned, not taking his eyes off the road. "You know what, I'm glad me and your Mom named you Kurt instead of her other choice sometimes..."

"Which was?" Kurt asked, not quite sure if he wanted to hear it.

"Well, there was Gabriel," Burt started, grinning again. "And then she suggested Felix because it meant 'happy'."

Finn chuckled and Carole tried to hide her smile. Kurt glared at the older man. "Ha Ha. Very funny dad."

* * *

"Holy shit."

"Finn, don't swear."

"But Mom...Holy Grilled Cheesus. Look at the house!"

The house in question was...big. It loomed before the Hudmel family, and the eldest teenager – Kurt – guessed that it was Victorian. "How old do you think it is?" He asked, looking at his father and step-mother for confirmation.

"I dunno," Burt answered, shrugging slightly. He didn't sound all too impressed by the house, which confused Kurt because it was _amazing._ "But it's old. Real old."

The four family members got out of the car and surveyed the neighbourhood; it seemed nice, although it was obvious that the house kind of stood out against the other houses on the street.

"Hello," A chirpy voice said from behind them, and they turned to look at the speaker. "I'm Marcy, your realtor." She shook hands with each of them, still smiling brightly. "Shall we take a look around?"

* * *

"Oh my God!" Kurt exclaimed, not able to contain himself. "Those are real Tiffany fixtures! And the stained glass...it's so...pretty." He smiled slightly, and his eyes drifted upwards to meet his father's gaze.

_They match Mom's eyes, huh?_

"...You can see the previous homeowners covered the mural over there up." She eyed Kurt up slightly. "As you can tell, they were gay as the Fourth of July."

The teen raised an eyebrow just as Carole started talking. "I see...so would we be able to peel the wallpaper off then?" She paused. "_If_ we buy the house, that is."

"Please do," Marcy nodded, still smiling insanely. "Now, I'm afraid that before you even consider buying the house, you need to know what happened to the previous owners. Full disclosure requirements and such."

Burt and Carole shared a look. "They didn't die in here, did they?" Burt asked, joking around.

There was a long pause, and all four family members turned to stare at Marcy with wide eyes.

"I'm afraid so," She sighed. "Murder-Suicide." Her smile instantly reappeared. "Would you like to take a look upstairs?"

Kurt felt something – someone – tug on his jumper, and looked up to see Finn, who was biting his lip. "What, Finn?"

"I saw the basement door earlier," Finn started, talking a mile a minute. "But I don't wanna go down there on my own...especially because of what happened to the last owners."

The shorter boy rolled his eyes. "What do you think is going to happen to you? It was a Murder-Suicide." He paused. "Finn...you do know what that is, right?"

The taller teen blinked dumbly.

"It means one of the owners killed his partner," Kurt told him impatiently. "And then he committed suicide to be with him. Now, you can stop worrying about a gun-wielding psychopath in the house, and you can stop holding on to my cardigan sleeve."

"Please come to the basement with me!"

"No. Finn, I want to look upstairs...after all, if we buy this house, I want the best room."

* * *

"So, the reason the house is so cheap is because of...well, what happened to the last owners, right?" Carole guessed. Marcy nodded. "I see."

"It's honestly a lovely house," Marcy said, looking hopeful. "The last two owners were lovely gentlemen, and they will be missed dearly." She smiled brightly once again. "The house has a lot of character, don't you think?"

Burt and Carole looked at each other, not so sure. "I dunno..." Burt muttered. "I'm not all that comfortable with the hist-"

"We'll take it."

All three adults turned to look at the person who had spoken – Kurt.

"What?" He defended, shrugging his shoulders slightly. "It's a nice house, and it has so much potential."

From behind him, Finn appeared. Having caught on what the conversation was about, Finn nodded in agreement. "I like it too. Like...it's kinda cool, in a weird Goth way...and I can play the drums without the neighbours complaining, 'cause the house is so big."

Marcy turned to look at Burt and Carole, waiting for their final decision. "Ah, what the Hell?" Burt grumbled, knowing he was beaten. "We'll take it."

* * *

Kurt hummed to himself as he folded a sweater, looking around for his set of drawers. He wasn't quite used to his new room yet, but he liked it; it had a chalkboard, so he could write down fashion ideas and notes, maybe even draw out a few basic designs. And, okay, maybe the room _did_ need a little paint job, but that could be easily done.

"That's a pretty tune you're humming."

Kurt jumped, spinning around to look at who'd just spoken. "Huh?"

The person stepped forwards; a teenage boy around Kurt's age. He had gelled hair and was wearing a rather interesting outfit consisting of tight red pants, a grey jumper over a white button-up and a red and yellow bowtie. Not to mention he was rather handsome too.

"What are you doing?" Kurt asked, snapping out of the daze he'd been in so. He glared at the mysterious boy. "Get out! DAD-"

"No!" The boy stepped forwards quickly, hands raised defensively. "I'm meant to be here!" He bit his lip. "I'm...I'm going to start working for your dad soon. He's a mechanic, right?"

Kurt's eyes still wide from fright as he spoke, raising an eyebrow in question. "Yeah...I don't know how he's going to work though...I mean, we only just moved here..." He paused for a moment. "How did you get into my room? I mean, the door was shut..."

"That's weird," The boy flopped onto Kurt's bed, not bothering to ask for permission, and smoothed out the wrinkles in his trousers. "I'm Blaine by the way."

"I'm...I'm Kurt."

Blaine grinned again. "Kurt...that's a pretty name."

"My mother liked _The Sound of Music_," Kurt said, somewhat defensively. "My dad just agreed because it rhymes with his name, and he thought it would be cool to have a son with a rhyming name to his."

"Better than mine," The shorter boy's eyes crinkled as he chuckled. "I was named after that rich kid from _Pretty in Pink_ – it's just spelt differently."

"I love that movie," Kurt admitted, blushing a little. He was still kind of creeped out by the fact that some teenage boy had probably broken into his room...but his Dad and Carole were just down the hall unpacking, so if Blaine tried anything he could just yell to him. "It's one of my favourites, after _Moulin Rouge_ and _Chicago_."

Blaine's eyes widened slightly. "You've seen _Moulin Rouge_? It's one of the best musicals ever made!"

"Yeah," Kurt agreed slowly. "It's just...perfect. I mean it's funny, it's sad, it's romantic...it's everything that a love story should be."

Blaine nodded and gave a small, sly smile. "Do you have a boyfriend, Kurt?" Kurt shook his head. "That's not right. You're an attractive guy – I'd certainly date you."

Maybe Blaine was alright.

* * *

_This truly is awful wallpaper, _Carole mused, not sure whether or not she should make a start on peeling to off the wall yet. _Maybe I should wait for Kurt or someone..._

"You're going to die in here."

Carole would willingly admit it; she let out a scream and jumped, spinning around to face the person who'd spoken. She found herself face to face with a presumably teenage girl; she was blonde, wore glasses, and clearly had Down's syndrome. She stared straight at the older woman, a very dark expression on her face.

"Becky!"

A tall woman walked through the door, scowling at the young teenager; the woman also had short blonde hair – shorter than the girl's – and looked to be in her fifties. "Becky, I thought I told you to watch _Dora the Explorer_."

Becky rolled her eyes. "I don't wanna watch that! It's boring and babyish!"

"Uhm," Carole interrupted, feeling very much like she was losing it. "What are you doing in my house?"

The woman turned to look at her, a grim expression still on her face. "We're your new neighbours." She looked at Becky and put her arm around her. "This is Becky, my daughter." She paused. "Adopted, that is."

Carole blinked. "I...I see..."

"Becky, go and check on Robin," The woman ordered. Becky frowned but stomped off to do as she was told. The woman watched her go to make sure, and turned to face Carole. "I'm Sue, by the way. Sue Sylvester."

"Carole."

Sue sat herself on one of the chairs, making herself at home immediately. "You just moved in?" Carole nodded slowly. "I see."

"How did you get into my house?" Carole asked, feeling slightly off about everything.

Sue tilted her head to the side. "You left the door open...All I have to say is that it's a rather careless thing to do, even with the presence of burly helper men."

"Oh."

"And about Becky," Sue carried on, not aware of the reaction she was getting. "She says things like that to everyone - she has something about this house, always has." The older woman sat up straighter. "No matter what, she always finds a way in here. So if you see a little figure waddling around, then that's her."

Carole had to admit, this woman was rather outspoken – and terrifying, if she was honest. "Well...my husband and I have no problem with her coming here – at the right time and place, of course." She paused. "Maybe she'd like to...I dunno, hang out with my boys."

Sue blinked, alert like a hawk. "You have children?"

Carole smiled, nodding. "I have a son and a step-son...I recently got remarried."

A brief smile graced Sue's tired face. "That's nice, I guess. "I'm not married – not anymore. No man is good enough for Sue Sylvester."

_No man is crazy enough, _Carole thought to herself.

"...And then I had my ovaries removed, thinking I'd never want kids. So when I did want one, I adopted instead." She shrugged. "Better this way; no diapers to clean and no screaming babies." She stopped, realising she was talking too much. "Anyway, I came to give you a house-warming gift," She started, standing up and eying the other woman's clothes distastefully. "I should have just gotten you an outfit that doesn't include denim."

_That's rich, _Carole thought the herself, _She's saying that while standing in a tracksuit._

Sue reached into her pocket and pulled out a small box; she tossed it at Carole. "Don't burn it all at once."

"Wait," Carole started as she left the room. "What do you-"

"It's a candle, Sally Field," Sue bit out, not turning back. Her voice echoed around the hall. "Meant to keep the bad spirits away...some crap like that."

* * *

Kurt _hated _the new school.

He hated how he was forced to wear a uniform every day of the week, blending in with all the other boys.

He hated that this meant he couldn't express himself through his clothing.

He hated being the new kid _and_ openly gay in an all-boys school (hey, he was only human).

Thankfully Dalton Academy had a zero-tolerance for bullying policy, so at least no one would beat him up for being out. Actually, up until the end of the day, nothing abnormal had happened, and he was even considering auditioning for the school's glee club.

Then it changed.

"Is that a _hippo_ broach you're wearing?" Someone asked incredulously. Kurt turned to look at him; a boy around his own height with CW hair and a face that strongly resembled a meerkat was smirking at him.

"Yes," Kurt said, straightening up and gripping his bag tighter. "It is."

The boy barked out a laugh. "Good grief," He muttered in a half-chuckle. Kurt's eyes narrowed slightly.

"What's wrong with it?" He snapped angrily, and the other teenager stopped laughing immediately. "Is it that you can't afford things like this, or the fact that you clearly have no idea what's in fashion?"

Meerkat face took a step closer. "Oh, really?" He asked, his voice turning low. "What's your name, huh?"

"Kurt Hummel."

The boy laughed again. "Wow, someone's parents hated them." He eyed Kurt up for a moment. "Yup. You're gay."

"Nice deduction skills," Kurt retorted sarcastically. "What gave it away; my voice or my face?"

"_My_ gaydar," Meerkat Face answered, raising his eyebrows higher. "Now, I was actually asking about the brooch because it's against school rules to wear items that aren't school uniform."

Kurt blinked, not sure if this boy was for real. "It's a brooch. It's not hurting anybody-"

The boy stepped even closer. "Take it off, or I'll make you wish you had."

Kurt eyed him up and down; since he didn't believe in violence, his chances of winning a fight weren't all too great anyway. "Go on then. Dalton has a zero tolerance for bullying and violence, so you'd just get expelled."

"Not if it's off-campus, princess," The boy stepped past Kurt, a malicious glint in his eyes. "Make sure the brooch is gone by tomorrow, or I'll report you to the headmaster."

* * *

_This kid really needs to tone down the hair gel,_ Burt thought, eying the young man in front of him. "Look, kid," Burt muttered. "I'm not kidding around here – I need a job."

"I can help," The teenager offered, looking annoyed at the fact he had to mention it again. "I'm Blaine Anderson by the way." He cleared his throat. "Mister O'Reilly from downtown owns a motor shop. He's...gravely ill." Blaine gave a small – but cocky – smile. "When he dies, someone will need to take over the shop."

Burt raised an eyebrow. "What illness?"

"Terminal brain cancer, apparently." Blaine clasped his hands together expectantly. "I'm friendly with his wife, so I know."

Burt sighed to himself, not sure what to make of this. "How do you know who I am? Or where I live?"

"Oh, I have a friend that lives in Ohio," Blaine said without hesitating. "He used to get his car done at your old shop all the time, and was really pissed when you moved away." Blaine took a step closer. "And, let's face it, everyone knows about this house and it's...history. So it's nothing short of easy to find out who's moved in."

The older man nodded to himself. "I guess so, what with the last guys and stuff..."

Blaine gave another cocky smile. "I'll leave now; I'm sure you and your family are very busy with moving in." He stood up, looking around the kitchen. The look on his face, admittedly, creeped Burt out a little. "Nice house."

And with that, he left.

* * *

"I cannot believe you tried to wash the blazers," Kurt face-palmed himself, shaking his head for effect. "Carole, you have to dry-clean these things, not just stick them in a washing machine!"

"I'm so sorry," Carole bit out somewhat sarcastically. "I don't usually have to dry-clean clothes when they can easily be washed."

"But it will ruin the colouring!"

"Excuse me?"

Both of them turned to look at the person who'd spoken; a little old Latina lady who was wearing a very stereotypical maid's outfit.

"Can we help?" Carole asked, going back to hanging the washing.

The lady smiled. "You can just dry them inside. There's a purifier too, so it smells nice."

Kurt snorted. "Please! Carole prefers it this way." His voice went up an octave mockingly. "_It's more natural this way._"

As Carole sent a good natured swat at his head, the lady smiled. "I see. I'm Santana Lopez, the housekeeper of the house." Kurt and Carole looked at each other. "I work Monday through to Saturday, and I take Christmas off."

Carole hesitated before speaking, clearly feeling bad. "I'm not really looking for a housekeeper..."

Santana just smiled. "What are you using to clean the floorboards?"

Carole blushed, the answer evident on her face.

"White vinegar," Santana said, smiling even more. "It doesn't leave marks." She chuckled to herself. "You've never owned a house this old before, have you?"

"No..."

Santana sighed, becoming more serious. "This house has a personality and feelings; if you don't look after it properly, you'll regret it." She paused. "May I come in? My cab left, and I'll have to call for another one."

* * *

"Do you want a coffee?" Carole asked, trying to be polite.

"Yes," Kurt nodded without looking up from his copy of Vogue. "You know how I like it, Carole..."

She rolled her eyes."_You_ can get your own, Mister."

"I'd prefer a tea," Santana answered politely. "No sugars and a little milk."

While Carole set to make it, Kurt looked up from his magazine. "So, you're used to working here then?"

Santana nodded, smiling at the memories. "Yes. I've worked here for many years. Owners come and go, and I just...stay here. The ones before you were nice men...their daughter was nice too, if a little bossy." Carole put the tea in front of her, and she smiled in thanks. "In fact, I'm the one who found the bodies."

Carole and Kurt shared a look, daring each other to ask the question on both of their minds. "How..." Carole started nervously, not wanting to stir any bad memories up. "I mean, what happened? Not that we're looking for a gossip..."

"No, it's alright," Santana assured her, stirring her tea around with the spoon given to her. "They fought a lot..." She looked down. "Money, I think. The daughter was into all that theatrical business, and the move here drained most of their money. The daughter wasn't too happy with not being able to continue her singing and dancing." She shrugged, giving a little sigh. "Who knows? Who can say?" She finished stirring her tea and went to take a sip. "Sometimes people just go...mad."

Kurt coughed, looking rather pale. Carole looked down at the table, not sure what to say to anything the maid was saying.

"I cleaned the mess up," Santana continued, and it surprised Carole that she was still smiling. "Don't worry. You'd never know."

"Do you get tired of cleaning up other people's messes?" Kurt asked suddenly, and Carole turned to glare slightly at him. "I mean...surely it's a pain."

Santana's smile disappeared. "I'm a woman – it's what we do." Her lips turned upwards again. "I just get paid for it, so it's a win-win I guess."

Carole grinned at this, and even Kurt managed a smile. The teenager leaned closer to his step-mother, making sure Santana was busy sipping her tea. "Hire her," He pleaded in a low whisper, adding a look for effect.

Carole bit her lip, and sighed. "Santana...when can you start working?"

Santana grinned gratefully. "Wednesday would be better, but I can make it work tomorrow."

"Sorry I'm late, damn traffic-"

Burt, who'd just walked into the kitchen, halted as his eyes fell on the other person in the kitchen.

"You must be Mrs Hudson-Hummel's husband," The maid purred, batting long eyelashes in his direction. He shifted uncomfortably.

"W-Who's she?"

Carole shot him a confused look. "This is Santana Lopez-"

"She's working for us," Kurt cut in, looking back down at his copy of Vogue.

Santana stood up, and Burt could see that she was wearing stockings, not so discretely highlighted by her skirt. "Pleased to meet you," She murmured seductively.

_Ah crap. I'm screwed._

"Yeah," Burt muttered, looking down so that he could avoid her eyes. "Pleased to meet you too."

In the distance, a car horn honked. Santana smiled. "That's my cab. I guess I'll be seeing you tomorrow, Mister Hummel."

"Wait," Carole cut in before she could leave. "Santana, you don't have to wear that outfit when you work here...I don't mind what you wear-"

"I don't like cleaning other people's houses in my own clothes," Santana interrupted, looking straight at Burt for a few seconds. "I'd better go. I'll show myself out."

Burt couldn't help but breathe out in relief once he heard the front door shut behind her, and he slumped against the kitchen countertop.

"Isn't she great?" Kurt asked, looking like Christmas had come early. "I _was_ wondering how the hell we were going to clean the whole house...I mean, I don't see Carole doing it..."

Carole went slightly red. "No...I guess that's true..."

"Well..." Burt said stiffly, still feeling weak. "I mean, do we really need the help?"

Kurt shot him a filthy look. "Dad, she seems trustworthy, knows the house well and honestly? We could use the help." When his father didn't say anything, Kurt jumped down from his seat. "I'm going to my room," He decided. "I have homework to do, and GaGa knows how long that will take..."

"Advanced, huh?" Carole asked, looking interested.

Kurt nodded. "Very. I'm not sure how Finn's coping, especially since I'm having trouble." He stopped. "Where is Finn anyway?"

* * *

"You're a really good singer."

Rachel laughed, high and clear. "Thank You! I've been training since I was about two."

"That is so cool," Finn said, mouth hanging open. "I wish I could sing, but I only really do it in the showers and stuff."

"I'm sure you're good," Rachel assured him. "Really. Any practice is good, as long as you don't stress your vocal chords too much. That is key."

Rachel was _so_ pretty...well, apart from her lack of boobs, but she was pretty nonetheless. Even if she wasn't though, he did go to an academy full of boys, so any girls were a welcomed change. And, anyway, she was kind of clever, especially when it came to singing.

"So, do you want to be a singer when you're older?"

Rachel's smile faltered slightly; it was only for a second, but Finn caught it easily. "Yeah. Well, I did...but plans change." She gave him another million-watt smile. "Your garden is pretty. Really. I like the roses over there-"

"Oh, no," Finn interrupted clumsily, flushing slightly when he realised he was being rude. "Sorry. But the old owners must have planted them here, like...the ones before us. It definitely wasn't us."

Rachel smiled silkily sweet. "I guessed. They're gorgeous, and they must have had good taste." Then she smirked to herself, in an almost secretive way. "They had a daughter, you know? I heard she was amazing."

Finn thought Rachel was amazing.

* * *

Carole hummed a tune to herself, shifting the weight of emptied boxes in her arms as she looked up at the ceiling for a way into the attic. Most of their things had been unpacked, so she'd decided to keep the boxes in the attic – just in case they happened to move again.

She put the boxes down as she caught sight of the little rectangular door in the ceiling, and reached up on her tiptoes to pull the little chord hanging down. Luckily, she could just about reach it, and smiled to herself in success when the door opened, some steps dropping down. Carole heaved the boxes into her arms again, and made her way up to the attic so that she could get rid of them.

That was when she heard it; a rustle. She stopped smiling and humming, and looked around the space she was in; the attic was large - large enough to be a bedroom, with a little bed and window tucked away in the corner. Carole turned around, feeling slightly off about the whole thing...

And then she came face to face with it – a rubber suit of some kind, suspended from the wall by chains or hooks or _something..._

She dropped the boxes out of shock, a little scream of surprise escaping her. She heard heavy footsteps from behind her, and large hands on her shoulders. "What?" She heard her husband ask. She didn't answer – she didn't need to. "Holy crap!"

"Uh-huh..."

Burt let out a snort. "I see...the last guys were into kinky stuff..."

More footsteps sounded from behind them. "Holy shit," They heard Finn mutter, and the sound of Kurt swatting at his step-brother.

"_What_ is that?" Kurt asked in disdain.

Burt laughed. "It's a rubber suit."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "_Yes_, but why is it here?"

"It must have belonged to the last owners," Carole guessed, still somewhat shocked by it.

"It's a bondage suit," Finn said quickly, excited that he finally knew something that the rest of his family didn't. "Like, someone puts it on, and then...uh, yeah. You get the point." He went red, avoiding everyone's eyes.

Kurt shuddered. "Please, throw it away." He looked at the two adults sternly. "Although I certainly don't intend on using it, I do _not_ want you two using it either."

Finn went even redder at this. "I...uh...homework," He muttered, tripping over his feet as he tried to leave the attic quickly.

Burt coughed. "_No._ Kurt, I just had a heart attack. Do you really think-"

"Dad."

"-that putting on a rubber suit-"

"Burt."

"-and having sex-"

"Oh my God!" Kurt snapped, voice much higher than usual; he stuck his fingers in his ears, chanting "lalalala I can't hear you!" to himself and walked away quickly.

Carole glared at her husband/ "I agree with the boys; just get rid of it without scarring anyone for life."

He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Are you sure?"

"Just do it!"

* * *

"Take it off!"

"Get off of me now!"

"Not until you take off the fucking brooch!"

"Bite me, Meerkat!"

The shoved Kurt onto the floor, teeth bared and eyes glinting like a wild animal. "Don't tempt me, Betty White!"

This was, of course, afterschool and off Dalton grounds; Kurt had gone to get a coffee, and found on his way back that he'd been followed. Kurt had found out that the Meerkat was called Sebastian through one of his classmates, and at that moment had trouble biting back a witty line comparing him to the crab from _The Little Mermaid._

"Take the damn thing off!" Sebastian yelled, now trying to yank it forcefully from Kurt's uniform.

Kurt knew he should have just taken it off – he _was_ getting kind of bored of wearing the same brooch every day, and he _was _desperate to wear the one that Blaine had given him (an utterly gorgeous violin brooch, coloured blue and with fake strings). But...Kurt didn't want Sebastian to win, and it was for a good cause.

"I'm not going to hit you, if that's what you want!" Kurt hissed through his teeth, even though he wanted to do so badly. However, the other teenager's hands wouldn't stop pulling at his clothes, so he had no choice.

He shoved Sebastian away from him, causing him to trip backwards and land on the ground. Kurt took the opportunity to reach backwards and open the driver's door of his car, stumbling slightly to get in quickly. Sebastian, seemingly shocked, got to his feet just as Kurt shut the car door and revved up the engine. The car pulled away, the taller teenager banging on the window and yelling loudly to try and stop him.

Kurt only breathed out of relief when he was a mile away from the shop.

* * *

"Kurt, are you bleeding?"

Kurt's hand quickly reached up, touching his eyebrow and smearing red across his face. "Oh. Yeah. It's only a small cut, Carole. Don't worry."

Carole sighed and beckoned him over. "Come and sit down. I'll clean you up." Kurt didn't even bother protesting, and sat down in the offered kitchen chair. "I thought you didn't get into fights."

"I don't," Kurt mumbled as his step-mother went through the cupboards for a first aid kit. "_He _got _me._"

Carole paused, her fingers resting on top of the kit. "I see." She pulled the object out and shut the cupboard door before pulling another chair out from under the table. She sat opposite the teenager, biting her lip at the blood. "I thought Dalton had a zero-tolerance for bullying policy..."

"It was _after_ school," Kurt muttered, wincing when she started to dab at the cut. "It didn't actually happen at school either – it was in the parking lot of a crappy coffee shop."

There was a moment of silence between them. "Well, I still think that's bullying," Carole said quietly. "And I'm sure the school would do something if you tell them."

"I don't want to cause any trouble," Kurt admitted, giving a small sigh. "I just want to transfer there and blend in. Be normal for once."

She smiled at him. "Don't be normal, sweetie. You're so unique, and it would be a shame if you hid that from the world."

Kurt blinked at her advice, not quite sure what to say. "I...I see."

"I may not be your Mom," Carole continued, stopping her treatment on him. "But I _do_ love you like my own." She laughed slightly to herself. "Anyway, if you were 'normal', then think about how boring and dull my wedding would have been."

Kurt brightened up considerably. "You're right. Still...Dalton is a new start, and I want friends at this school besides my own step-brother."

"Understandable," Carole agreed, pulling a plaster out of the first aid kit. "Keep this on for tonight so that your cut doesn't get infected, and then take it off before school tomorrow."

"Thanks," Kurt muttered, looking up with a soft expression. "Thank You."

* * *

Burt was just about to leave, honestly, when he heard it; a sigh from upstairs.

He furrowed his eyebrows in frustration – both of the boys were at school, and Carole had gone into town for some groceries. This meant that someone else, who he probably didn't know, was in the house.

Heart beating faster, he slowly made his way towards the stairs, reaching out for the banister to grip on to. As he climbed up the stairs at a torturously slow pace, the noise only got louder and louder; it was definitely a woman, he decided, making little panting noises of some sort. He stopped at the top of the stairs and went to look in the first room on that floor. The door was slightly open, and he squinted to see what was going on...the door creaked a little as he pushed it further open and-

It was the maid, Santana. She was lying on the bed, her hair spread out on the pillows – it was only then that he realised she was_ touching_ _herself. _She looked up at him with heavily lidded eyes, panting harshly as she smiled cockily at him.

"Come join me," She purred, hips raising off of the bed. "Please."

Burt flushed deep red. "I...sorry." He stumbled out of the doorway, unable to escape the images in his head.

* * *

"I hate him!" Kurt seethed, pacing back and forth. Blaine was sat on his bed, legs crossed casually. "I just...want to get back at him, you know? But I don't like violence-"

"You can still get back at him," Blaine's smooth tenor interrupted, silencing Kurt immediately. "You and I, we can scare him..._together._" He smiled at the thought.

Kurt stopped pacing, pouting slightly in thought. "But how? I'm not exactly scary."

"I know how," Blaine started. "But you have to do and say what I tell you to."

Kurt bit his lip in thought. "Okay then. Let's do it."

* * *

There was the sound of a bucket being set down on the floor. "I have to clean," a gravelly female voice said from behind him. "If I don't, I'll be behind my work schedule."

"Do whatever," Burt muttered, avoiding her eyes.

Santana watched him as he sat down; he knew because he could practically feel her gaze. "You look stressed, Mister Hummel." Her hand trailed up her body, resting on the top of her right breast. "I saw you watching me the other day," She said softly. She squeezed her boob hard and reached to unbutton her top. "It was hot."

Burt went even redder.

Santana stepped closer to him, her manicured hand resting on his shoulder. "It's okay," She half-whispered, voice getting huskier. "Did you touch yourself afterwards?"

"Stop it," Burt muttered half heartedly.

"You did," Santana smirked, squeezing her breast even more. "Maybe not immediately after, but I can guarantee you came on the memory of me fucking myself on my fingers." She leaned in closer, her voice low in his ear. "Maybe it was while you were fucking your wife?"

Burt lurched away, choking slightly. "Stop it, Santana."

He froze, however, when Santana's hand reached down to rest on his crotch. There was a gasp and both of them turned to face the person.

To Burt's horror, it was Kurt; his son was staring at him, shocked at seeing an elderly version of Santana sitting in his father's lap. "Kurt..."

Kurt backed away, shaking his head with disbelief. Coming to his senses, the older man shoved Santana off of him and tried to catch up with Kurt.

* * *

"Smythe!" Sebastian turned around, caught unaware by Kurt. "I did what you asked." Kurt smiled, trying to appear as flirtatious as possible. "I'm sorry I took so long, by the way, but you look so sexy when you're angry."

Sebastian smirked. "Well, you're quite hot yourself, Hummel. I wouldn't mind tapping that ass of yours."

Kurt tried not to wince at his choice of words. "Well, come over afterschool today, and you'll get the chance. "My place, say...three fourty-five?" Sebastian nodded confidently, obviously not suspecting a thing.

The trap was set.

* * *

"Hey, babe."

Kurt put on a fake smile as he shut the door after the taller teen. "Hey, Smythe."

"So, where are we doing the deed?"

Kurt bit his lip, hoping this worked. "The basement. My step-brother's upstairs, and-"

Sebastian huffed, folding his arms. "Let's just get on with it."

At that moment, Kurt sincerely hoped that was Blaine had planned was horrible.

After they'd made their way down to the basement, Sebastian looked around with disdain. "Right, well-"

"No," Kurt interrupted, remembering Blaine's orders. "There's a little room to the right, over there. We'll do it in there, as it's cleaner and more private."

Sebastian rolled his eyes, annoyed at the wait. "Whatever." He did as Kurt said, the pale boy close behind. "So...wait. Who's this?"

Blaine was sat in a chair in the middle of the room, a rather unpleasant smirk on his face. "So you're Sebastian Smythe."

"Who's this?" Sebastian repeated, sneering at Kurt. "Trying to trick me into a little threesome?"

Blaine simply smiled and blinked. "Kurt, get the lights and step back."

Kurt did as he asked.

And then it was pure horror.

Evil cackling started to echo around the room, and Kurt's eyes remained fixed on Blaine, watching with gross fascination – was Blaine making that noise?

"WHAT THE HELL?!" Sebastian yelled, obviously terrified.

Suddenly, a creature appeared in the chair where Blaine had been as the lights started flicking on and off over and over again quickly. The creature's face was disgusting, with no hair and its mouth smeared with blood. Somewhere in the darkness, Sebastian cried out, and Kurt heard him hit the floor.

"HELP!" Sebastian screeched, and he sounded like he was crying.

Kurt couldn't help but cry out too, terrified. He'd never been so scared in his life, not even when he'd watched his mother barf up blood when he was seven.

This...this was pure hell.

Kurt quickly snapped the light on permanently, and the creature he'd been seeing vanished. Sebastian was lying on the floor, shaking violently, with a wet patch on his Dalton slacks. There were a few slashes in his left cheek that were bleeding heavily; his eyes snapped open and he scrambled to get out of the house.

"Sebastian, wait!" Kurt shouted, only to get shoved out of the way. "Please!"

"Well, we showed him."

Kurt spun around quickly, eyes wide as he stared at Blaine. "What the Hell?"

"What?" Blaine shrugged, his black polo shirt clinging to his biceps nicely. "He was an ass, so I sorted him out."

"That wasn't a prank!" Kurt accused, tears flowing down his cheeks. "That...that..._thing_! It's dangerous! What the Hell was it?!"

The shorter teen gave him a confused look. "What thing? Kurt, you're really not making much sense right now..."

Kurt backed away, arms crossed against his chest as he tried to get away. "Stay away from me! Stay away from me and my family...and just everyone!" He ran up the basement steps, crying hard.

Blaine breathed hard, angry tears in his eyes as he watched Kurt disappear. "I only did it to make you happy!"

* * *

"You like the maid."

Finn looked up at Rachel. "Who? Santana?"

Rachel nodded knowingly. "Yes. You look like you want to screw her." She paused, hesitating slightly. "I know your step-father does too."

Finn blinked. "But...he just married my Mom..."

"It's okay," Rachel assured him. "Most men who meet her like her."

Finn was so relieved that he didn't bother asking how she knew any of this information. "Oh. Cool. Yeah, she's hot and stuff..." He grinned shyly at his companion. "But you're more...real. I feel like I can talk to you properly without worry. You just seem...nicer, and less fake."

Rachel put her flower down, staring at Finn. "Oh. Thank You, Finn."

The taller teen moved closer, feeling awkward and nervous. "Rachel?"

"Yes?"

Finn stared at her lips, wanting badly to kiss her there and then. "Will you be my girlfriend?"

Her only reply was to kiss him on the lips passionately.

* * *

"Oh my God," Kurt sighed, rolling onto his stomach and putting a pillow over his ears. Finn went red, hiding his head in his legs.

"That's, like, the second time this hour," Finn mumbled embarrassedly.

Kurt sighed again, lifting the pillow off of his head. "Well, they are newlyweds...old newlyweds, at that."

"Yeah, but in an hour?"

Kurt nodded. "Let's put on the radio or something. I don't really want to hear your Mom moaning like a porn star."

"I don't really wanna hear your Dad doing that to her," Finn retorted, getting up to turn on the radio and find some music. "You know, I totally thought that because he has a heart problem, he wouldn't be so eager-"

"You should have seen before my Mom died," Kurt snorted. "I remember that they sent me to my Aunt Mildred's for an entire week after they found out she was terminal." Kurt shuddered slightly. "At the time I thought 'Mommy and Daddy time' meant being all silly and hugging without kids. Safe to say, I was wrong."

* * *

"_God, you scared me."_

_The figure didn't speak._

"_I thought I told you to throw it away."_

_Silence again. _

"_Oh, I see. You really think you should be going for Round Two after your heart attack?"_

_The figure stepped closer, and she sighed. _

"_Okay. Fine. But just make sure that you don't strain yourself."_

* * *

"No," Sue scolded. "Baboon heart, this isn't your time. Go up to bed now."

Burt yawned, nodding sleepily and walking away from the fire he'd created on the stove. Sue watched after him like a hawk, turning down all the knobs without looking.

"God save your family," She muttered, and then turned to leave.

* * *

"Love you," He murmured sleepily.

She blinked, unable to stop thinking about what had just happened. "I...I love you too."

* * *

_To: Quinn  
From: Finn_

_I'm sorry. It's not working. Hope we can still be friends._

Finn took a deep breath, unable to look at the text he'd typed out. Closing his eyes, he quickly pressed the _SEND_ button and dropped his phone on the couch next to him.

He ignored the phone when it started to light up with a series of replies, and decided to go outside, feeling desperately guilty about what he'd done.

* * *

"I'm sorry."

Kurt didn't look up from his homework.

"It was...awful what I did to that guy. I'm sorry."

Kurt looked up at the other teenager, biting his lip in thought. "It _was_ awful. In fact, it was _scary_. I'm _scared_ of you, Blaine." The shorter boy's eyes slowly filled with tears. "I mean, it's worse than what he was doing to me."

Blaine sniffed, fat tears rolling down his face. "I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to hurt him...only to scare him." He took a deep shuddering breath. "It was a lame prank gone wrong. There. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Kurt nodded. "Yes."

"Well, please let us continue being friends," Blaine begged. "You're the only friend I've had who I can really trust. Really."

Kurt bit his lip again, this time harder. "I...I don't know. I care about you a lot, Blaine; I know what it's like to be an outcast, but I...I just can't get over what you did to Sebastian."

Blaine's face scrunched up sadly. "Alright, I said I was sorry."

"I know. But...maybe you should just go away for a couple of days," Kurt started, looking down at the duvet of his bed. "And then maybe we can start to hang out again."

He looked up, only to discover that Blaine had vanished.

* * *

"How about Chinese tonight?"

Burt nodded, not looking up from his paper. Finn, however, got the hint, mouthing as he thought hard.

"Mom...you said that...when you were...with me...you..." His eyes widened as he got what she was saying. "Oh my God."

Burt looked up, finally getting it. "Wait a minute, what?"

Carole grinned, nodding. "I went to the doctor today for a routine check-up, and he told me."

"So..." Finn said slowly. "I'm going to be a big brother?" Carole nodded, and Finn smiled a huge smile. "Yeah...that's gonna be so cool!"

"You're having a baby?" Burt asked, unable to believe it quite yet. "Like...our baby?"

Carole rolled her eyes. "Well, yes. Who else's?"

Burt grinned too now, ducking to kiss her.

None of them realised that Kurt had been eavesdropping on the conversation; the pale teenage boy quickly went back to his room, deciding not to interrupt the family moment.

None of them realised that someone else, dressed in a rubber suit, was watching them celebrate through the window.


	2. Home Invasion

Home Invasion

1968

"Well, I suppose that the clean freak doesn't want to come with us."

Emma looked up from wiping the table. "No thank you. I still have to clean the bathroom and the bedrooms – the germs in those rooms are just _crawling_."

Sandy and Brenda both laughed just as Shannon walked into the room; she caught what was going on and frowned. "Ah, leave her alone, guys. I mean, that bathroom is probably disgusting anyway, what with how many of us use it."

Brenda sighed. "Fine. Well, while you two losers stay here, Sandy and I are going to a 'Doors' concert." Both of them turned around and left without another word, leaving the two women on their own.

"Remind me why we agreed to let those two live here," Emma muttered, and Shannon shrugged slightly.

That was when there was a knock at the door. "I'll get it," Shannon decided before Emma could even look up; she knew that Emma wouldn't want to touch the door handle.

She opened the door, expecting it to be the other two teachers, only to find that it was a man; he was dressed in a jumper and trousers, and appeared to have blood running down the side of his face. "Excuse me," He started to say, reaching up to touch his eyebrow. It was only then that Shannon realised he was bleeding. "I don't want to bother you, but I'm hurt and needing some help."

Shannon didn't really want to let him in – but then again, what if he was badly injured? And what kind of person would she be if she just let him bleed to death? So she let him in, directing him to the couch in the front room to sit down on.

"This may sting a little," She said, giving Emma a small smile when the red-haired woman brought the first aid kit to her. She reached in to get the equipment she needed, and then dabbed at his apparently injured eye. "Just be glad that I know first aid."

Emma, who had been watching Shannon help the man, stood up suddenly, noticing something about the situation. She took a step closer to get a better look. "You know, I can see blood but I don't see a wound..."

Suddenly, the man had brought a nearby ashtray crashing onto Emma's head, knocking her unconscious. Shannon jumped up from where she was sitting, ready to fight if necessary. "Don't move!" The man growled at her, dropping his ashtray. "You'll only make it worse!" Shannon ignored his warning, and tried to run around the couch to the open door. The man quickly grabbed a lamp off of the coffee table and swung it at her, hitting her in the face and knocking her out too.

The man, Cooter Menkins, smiled to himself. This was going to be easier than he thought.

* * *

When Emma opened her eyes, it was to water dripping through the ceiling and onto her nose. Her eyelashes fluttered as she sat up, only to find that she was now looking at the assailant in front of her.

"About time you woke up," He growled. "Now, take off your clothes."

Emma's eyes widened. "P-Please don't hurt me..." She whispered, her voice too weak to speak loudly.

Cooter growled. "Take your clothes off, _now_." He tossed a bundle of clothes at her. "Put these on afterwards."

Emma sniffled as she unbuttoned her blouse and shouldered it off; she picked up one of the pieces of clothing thrown at her, and found that she was looking at a stereotypical teacher's outfit. As she changed her comfortable clothes for strict and tight ones, she managed to whimper out, "P-please. I-I'm a virgin."

"Just strip."

When she was done, he seemed to relax a little; however, he pulled a knife out of his pocket all the same. "Now, lie on your stomach on the couch."

Emma did so, shutting her eyes tightly. From above her, Cooter had grabbed her discarded clothes, and reached for her arms and legs; he hog-tied her, ignoring her whimpers as he touched her skin, before standing back to look at her. Emma's breathing had become harsh and heavy, her big brown eyes staring at the man pleadingly. "I don't know what you want," She said, tears starting to roll down her face. She knew that the water that had been dripping onto her face was from the upstairs bathroom, and that the man had probably drowned Shannon in the tub. She knew that he intended to kill her at some point – but it didn't stop her from begging. "We have money upstairs, if that's what you want. I-I won't tell anyone what happened..."

Cooter just smirked and left the room. Emma blinked when she realised he'd gone, looking around to see if he was still there. _Maybe he's listened to me...maybe he's going to let me go..._

She didn't hear him creep up behind her. She didn't see that he was behind her.

That was when he stabbed his pocket knife into her exposed back.

Today

"So, you're Kurt's step-brother."

Finn nodded, looking up from his homework. He'd decided to do it outside, in case Rachel came and wanted to talk to him. "Yeah...and who are you?"

Blaine smiled easily. "A friend of Kurt's. Blaine Anderson." They shook hands. "How's he been recently? I haven't seen him much."

Finn shrugged. "Okay, I guess. A bit withdrawn, but that's it." He paused. "Do you want me to get him for you?"

Before the shorter teen could answer, Finn's phone went off. He looked at the number and went white. "Aren't you going to pick it up?" Blaine asked just as Finn pressed 'ignore'.

"Nah. Prank call...what were we saying?"

Blaine opened his mouth, only to be interrupted by the phone again. "Maybe you should pick up," Blaine told him, raising an eyebrow.

"No," Finn shook his head. "It's just a prank caller...or Kurt asking me to go to the kitchen and get him some-" The phone rang again. "How about I tell him you were here?"

Blaine nodded. "That would be great. I'll just go."

Finn didn't even notice that Blaine just walked around to the back of the house because his phone rang for a fourth time. Getting annoyed, he accepted the call and pressed the phone to his ear. "For God's sake-"

"Finn, I'm pregnant."

He slammed the phone down on the floor, breaking the screen, before shouldering his schoolbag and walking away.

* * *

When Sebastian had asked to meet him at a nearby coffee barista, Kurt had been nervous. Was he going to kick the crap out of Kurt for what Blaine had done? Had he told anyone? Or did he want to apologise for his behaviour beforehand?

As Kurt sat down the other boy, he blinked. Sebastian was wearing his Dalton uniform, as always, and a hat tugged down to his ears, hiding his hair. He also had a large cloth bandage of some sort on his cheek, obviously covering the scratches he'd gained. "Umm..."

"I can't sleep," Sebastian blurted out, voice rough and gravelly. "I can't get the image of that...that _thing_ out of my head." Sebastian looked up, and Kurt saw that his eyes had purple rings around them. "What _was_ it?"

Kurt took a deep breath. "It was...well, it was Blaine. My friend-"

"No!" Sebastian snapped, tears pooling in his eyes. "No it wasn't! That thing was not human, and you know it."

Kurt didn't say anything.

"I'm not sleeping," He continued brokenly, staring into space. "My hair...it's turning white from fear." His eyes focused on Kurt. "That happens, you know?" At this point, he tugged the cap further down his head.

Kurt cleared his throat. "What did you tell your parents?"

"I told them I got mugged; much more believable than a...a monster in a basement attacking me. I had to fill out a police report and everything."

Kurt couldn't look at the other teenager, feeling guilty. "How deep are those cuts?"

"Deep," Sebastian muttered. "Apparently I'm lucky I didn't bleed to death...God, I just can't help but think of that mouth-"

"It was a mask," Kurt interrupted dryly, not sure if he was trying to convince himself or Sebastian. "He just wanted to scare you."

Sebastian snorted slightly, sounding like himself for a moment. "Yeah, well. He succeeded." He paused, peering up at Kurt through tired eyes. "Do you believe in the Devil?"

Kurt was rather taken aback by this. "I...No. I don't believe in God, so I guess I don't really believe in the Devil either..." _Although, after that, who knows?_ He thought to himself secretly.

"I do," Sebastian told him, starting to shake slightly. "I've looked into his eyes, Hummel."

Kurt shivered at slightly.

* * *

The house was silent. All of the Hudson-Hummel family were asleep, some more restfully than others; Finn was only half-asleep, unable to stop thinking about the phone calls, and the person who'd been making them. Kurt, meanwhile, was plagued by the mystery of Blaine and what he had done. What the pale teenager didn't know, though, was that Blaine was standing at the foot of his bed that night, watching Kurt as he tossed and turned in his sleep.

This peaceful picture was shattered a second later when the house alarm went off, waking everyone up.

Burt shot upwards, heart speeding up as he tried to grasp what was going on. "Carole, go check on the boys!" He bolted out of bed, leaving his wife looking tired and confused.

By the time Burt had gotten down the stairs, he was fully awake and looking around the house for a home invader. He quickly went to turn off the house alarm, trying to slow down his breathing so he didn't have a heart attack.

And then he saw that the front door was open.

He shut it quickly, not wanting to have his back turned for too long. Carole appeared moments later, stopping when she saw he was tensed and worried. "Did someone break in?" She asked, looking around.

"Go back upstairs," Burt muttered, barely registering that she said she was going to go and call the police. There was someone in his house – that meant he had to protect his family. He started to walk towards the kitchen, looking around with every step he took.

And then he heard it; the creak of a door and giggling.

He picked up the pace of his walking, heading for the basement stairs. He tried not to let the stairs creak as he walked down into the basement, feeling utterly defenceless. He stopped halfway down, and looked around-

It was Becky, who was sat on the floor with a red ball in her hand and giggling happily. Burt sighed, the tension in his shoulders visibly disappearing. "Becky, go home."

Becky looked up at him, her smile disappearing slightly. She rolled the ball once last time into the darkness before she stood up and let Burt walk her out of the nearby basement door. While she was leaving, Burt peered around the dark attic, wondering who the hell she'd been playing with. Of course, nobody visible was there.

Shaking his head as he followed after the girl, he didn't notice the red ball she'd been playing with being rolled back.

* * *

"The police are on their way-"

"Tell them to go back," Burt grumbled, slumping onto the bed. "It was just Becky. I don't even know how the little freak got in-"

"Don't call her that!" Carole snapped, her head turning to glare at him. He stared back at her, shocked by her reaction. "Just...it's not her fault!"

It was only then that Burt noticed she was shaking. "Carole...are you alright?"

Carole looked down at the duvet, trying not to let him see that she was very upset. "I-I know it sounds stupid...but I haven't thrown up. Not once. I threw up for two months straight when I was pregnant with Finn." She looked up, her skin very pale. "I feel like there's something wrong with this baby, Burt."

Burt sighed, putting an arm around his wife. "It's not stupid," He muttered. "Honestly. I mean, most Moms get worried, don't they? It's only natural." He leaned in to kiss her cheek. "I think maybe you need to sleep. You must be feeling exhausted..."

Carole nodded, not bothering to tell him that she didn't feel any better at all by his reassurances.

* * *

The kitchen in the Sylvester household was alive, with jazz music playing in the background as the tall woman started making cupcakes of some sort.

"How come I don't look like these girls?" Becky asked, looking up and pointing at her magazine.

"Because you don't," Sue replied simply, turning around with her bowl of cupcake mix. "It's just the way you are." When Becky just pouted, Sue continued. "You have some other gifts – I mean, only a few, and they're pretty useless most of the time."

Becky folded her arms. "Like what?"

"How the hell am I meant to know?" Sue snapped. "Now, could you get me that ipecac syrup from the cupboard? The brown jar."

Becky huffed, standing up from her chair and grabbing the bottle for the woman. She passed it to Sue, confused by what its purpose was. "Does it make the cupcakes taste good?"

Sue opened the jar, hesitating in her answer. "No. You can't actually taste it." Sue turned the bottle upside down, pouring all of it into the cupcake mixture. "No, it causes violent stomach upset, and makes people barf. Sometimes internal bleeding..." Sue mixed it in, picking up the bowel and walking around to let Becky look in the bowl. "Okay..." She smiled at the girl. "Spit in it."

* * *

Honestly, Finn was a wreck. All day at school he'd just thought about the mess he'd created; with Quinn, with Rachel...with everything. It got even worse when he got flashes of the times he and Quinn had had sex – it didn't arouse him in the slightest, instead making him feel sick to his stomach.

That was why he'd shot out of school when the bell had rung, driven his car out to the nearby coffee shop that no one went to, and parked in the space furthest away from the shop itself. Once the engine had been turned off, and he was sure no one had followed him, Finn had started to cry. He couldn't help it – his ex-girlfriend was pregnant with his child. To add on top of that, he had a new girlfriend who he cared about deeply, and didn't want to leave her or upset her.

Taking a deep shuddering breath, he hid his face in his hands like a child, chest shaking with the sobs he was trying to keep back. Flashbacks started to appear, and he rubbed at his eyes angrily, willing them to leave him alone.

Then there was a knock at the window.

Finn jumped, looking around. He found himself face to face with another teenage boy with a Mohawk; the teenager mouthed a "_let me in_" at Finn, grinning at him. Finn shrunk against his seat, having no intentions whatsoever to let this dude in his car. "Dude!" The guy yelled. "Come on! I want to help you!"

"Piss off!" Finn yelled.

"Come on!" The guy stood back, clearly waiting for Finn to open the door. "I've been watching you cry like a sissy for the past five minutes! I can help!"

Finn furrowed his eyebrows; he was stupid, but not that stupid. "Dude, piss off!" He repeated.

The Mohawk boy folded his arms and smirked. "You've got a girl pregnant, haven't you?" Finn froze, shocked by what the other teenager had said. "Thought so. Look, I know you! You go to Dalton with me, honest!"

Finn sighed, giving in, and opened the car door. "Fine. I don't feel good about this, though..."

"Dude, relax." It was only when the other boy faced him that Finn got a proper look at his face; to Finn's disgust, the left side of his face was covered in burns and grazes. "So; I'm Puck. Noah Puckerman, actually, but if you call me Noah then I'll beat you up. You call me Puck, you got that?"

Finn nodded quickly. "Yeah. I'm Finn." He shuffled in his seat, sort of feeling awkward. "So, how come you're not wearing the uniform?"

"I skipped today," Puck said casually. "Couldn't stand the thought of people staring at me like some sort of loser." His hands turned into fists as he started to feel angry. "It's 'cause of the frickin' burns. It's no one's business, you know?"

"How did you know?" Finn asked suddenly, feeling curious. "About...the girl thing?"

Puck smirked. "I've been in that situation before – not good, but there you go." He shifted closer to Finn, invading his personal space. "What happened? You had a one night stand and now she wants payment? Was it a foreign chick?"

"It's my ex-girlfriend," Finn mumbled, feeling bad about telling a complete stranger this. "I moved recently, and she keeps calling me about...about this baby." He sniffed, although he didn't really want to cry in front of the other teenager, who seemed extremely hard and cool. "B-But I've got a new girlfriend here. I really like her..."

To his surprise, Puck touched his arm gently. "Dude, that's harsh." He sighed. "It's never a good situation to be in. So, what has she said?"

"Quinn...Quinn wants me to go back to Lima," Finn choked out. "S-She's Christian, a-and she doesn't want an abortion...but her parents will kick her out if they ever find out. S-She just wants me there, s-so she has support."

"So, what's the problem?" Puck asked. "I mean, you go with her to get rid of the baby, and then you come back to your new girlfriend and live life." He leaned in closer to Finn. "Seriously. Just tell your parents you want to go back for a weekend to see a friend, and they won't even hesitate."

* * *

"Look, there's got to be a reason why you suddenly want to visit your friends," Burt accused, watching his step-son pack his suitcase.

Finn straightened up. "No. No reason. I just...really feel like seeing my friends."

"I see..." Burt took a step forward. "So it has nothing to do with someone called 'Quinn' repeatedly calling here then."

Finn went very pale. "She's been calling here?"

"Yeah," Burt said, raising an eyebrow. "I also happen to know that she's your girlfriend – or _was_ your girlfriend at some point." He sighed. "Look, buddy...I'm not trying to be nosey. But is something going on here that me and your Mom should be aware about?"

The tall teenager bit his lip and tried to shake his head. "No...well...I don't know." He collapsed back onto the bed, knowing that he'd been caught out. "Burt...I got her pregnant. There, I said it. And now, s-s-s-she wants an abortion, a-a-and she wants me there..."

He felt his step-father sit down next to him and put a large arm around him. "It's okay," He murmured, his voice surprisingly soft and comforting. "We all get in situations like that from time-to-time..."

Finn shook his head angrily, not wanting to cry. "I can't believe I got her pregnant. I'm such an ass, too, 'cause I broke up with her-"

"Finn," Burt told him seriously. "Go to Ohio. Look, she can't force you to keep up a long distance relationship with her, but it's only right if you go to be with her when she...when gets it done." He paused for a moment. "I dunno if this is overstepping or anything, but I don't mind going with you. This can't be easy on you at all."

"No," Finn muttered. "It's not." He looked up, finally feeling calm enough to. "Alright," He agreed. "You can come."

* * *

Carole had just been pouring out some coffee to take to work when there was a knock at the kitchen door. She turned in time to see Sue make her way inside, holding a plate of cupcakes in her hand. "Oh, Sue..."

"Just thought I'd bring these cupcakes," Sue said casually, walking over and sitting down by the table.

"Now's not really a good time," Carole started apologetically. "Really, I'm just about to head out to work-"

"It's a peace offering," Sue carried on, acting as if the other woman hadn't spoken. "For Becky sneaking into the house all the time." She leaned forwards, her voice lowering slightly. "I think it's time I started strapping her in again at night, if I'm honest."

Carole blinked. "Uh...well...thank you for the cupcakes. I'm not really a fan of cupcakes, but-"

"Ha!" Sue snorted. "They're not for you! At your age? You might as well just glue a stick of butter to your ass." Carole's smile disappeared. "No, these are for Pear Hips – the gay one who sings like an angel."

Carole reached forwards to take the plate off of her. "Well...thank you." That was when the older woman started to stare at her, as if realising something. Getting slightly annoyed, she bit out a "What?", glaring at her slightly.

Sue just stared even more. "You're knocked up. I can smell it like a truffle pig can smell truffles." Sue gave a small smile. "I could smell that little...angel...the second I walked in the door. I mean, your hormones reek of pregnancy."

"Wow...okay."

"So, is Pear Hips at home? I'd like to make sure he gets these cupcakes personally." She smirked slightly. "I'm just a sucker for penance."

"No," Carole murmured, still shocked by what Sue had said. "He's...he's out with a friend."

Sue stood up and turned to leave. "Well, I'll come back later-"

"Sue." Sue turned around, wondering what she wanted. "I know this is...it's a weird question, but..." Carole cleared her throat. "But do you smell anything else about the baby?"

Sue turned back to sit at the table. "Coffee; two sugars and a great deal of half and half." Carole went to pour it out, listening carefully for whatever Sue said. "Are you worried about anything in particular?" She frowned when Carole put the coffee in front of her with one of the cupcakes. "I told you, those are for Porcelain."

"He's not going to eat both of them," Carole stated, going to cut it in half. "He's strict about the food in this house...we can split this one in half." Sue just looked down at her coffee, not touching her half of the cupcake. "Can I ask you a personal question?" Sue nodded slowly, watching to make sure that the other woman didn't put the other half of the cake in her mouth. "What made you...you know...adopt Becky?"

"Well," Sue answered, trying to keep her tone light. "My sister had Down's Syndrome, and she was my biggest hero. Just because she has a disability, it doesn't make her any less of a good person, does it?" She sat up straight. "A parent never turns their back on their child. All of mine were...pure love, I guess."

"You have other kids?" Carole asked in surprise, forgetting about the food in her hand.

"I adopted four," Sue answered, eyes glazing over with memories. "I really should have stopped after one. See, I had my uterus removed when I was younger, so me and my...my partner at the time couldn't have children. Shame, because the kids would have been attractive and strong ones too – good sportsmen."

"Did all of them have Down's?"

Sue shook her head and sighed. "No. The first...he was a model of physical perfection. I lost him though...to other things." Sue shot straight up, clearly not used to giving out information such as this. "Your baby is fine. No more of this sad talk."

At that moment, Burt walked into the kitchen, carrying his suitcase. "Ooh...cupcake-"

"Not for you!" Sue snapped angrily, and he frowned at her. "I don't think your baboon heart could take it." She looked up to see Santana walk into the kitchen as well. "Santana, wrap these up until the Pear Hips can have them. And don't forget the crumbs on the table either." Santana did so, not looking at the older woman. "Santana and I go way back...isn't that right?"

Santana didn't say anything, and just stared at the tall woman.

"I even employed her once. I just hope her dusting's improved now that she works for you."

"Your sense of humour was – and still is – a delight," Santana said stiffly as Sue stood up, a small smirk on her lips.

Sue turned back to Burt and Carole. "Congratulations. There's nothing greater than the promise of a new child, as they say." She opened the kitchen door, her voice dropping. "Or a greater tragedy when that promise is broken." With that she walked out, slamming the door behind her.

Burt turned around to look at his wife, only to find himself face to face with Santana. "Do you want me to take your case to the car?" She drawled out, smiling flirtatiously. Feeling numb, he nodded and watched her walk out of the kitchen.

"I wish you didn't have to go," Carole sighed, turning his attention back to her.

"You guys will be fine without me," He promised. "I mean, Kurt's not going to misbehave just 'cause I'm not here...and it's only for a couple of days."

"I know," She muttered. "I'd just feel a lot safer if you both stayed."

"Well, look on the bright side," He told her, putting an arm around her for comfort. "At least you know that Finn's going to be safe while he's gone. And I know that Kurt's gonna be safe too."

If only he knew.

* * *

Kurt liked his step-mother – honestly, he did – but the last thing he wanted to be doing right now was sitting and watching a movie with her while he had a lot on his mind; Blaine, the attack...

There was a knock on his bedroom door, and he looked up from his revision. "Can I come in?"

"Sure," Kurt shouted back, quickly getting up to turn the music from his iPod off.

He went to open his door, only to find that Carole was standing there with a large cupcake on a plate, looking quite hopeful. "Hi," She said awkwardly. "That crazy lady from next door made you a cupcake."

"Huh," Kurt muttered, already retreating further into his room to sit on his bed. "Too bad I'm not hungry."

Carole stepped into the room, not quite sure what to say or do. She put the plate down on his dressing table and sat opposite him on the bed. "So, since your Dad and Finn are away, I figured we could have a little...night in together. You know, we could watch a movie, maybe even just have a little lady-chat-"

"No thanks," Kurt muttered, going back to his homework. "Too much homework."

There was a small pause between the two. "Are you mad at me?" Carole asked nervously, not liking how withdrawn he was.

Kurt looked up and grabbed the plate with the cupcake that she'd placed next to his bed. "Why don't you eat this, Carole? I mean, you're eating for two, right?" When Carole just stared at him, he sighed. "I'm not stupid. I heard you guys celebrating in the kitchen; besides, it's obvious. You've stopped drinking wine after dinner, and you're gaining weight. No offence."

Carole sighed as well, knowing she'd been caught out. "Kurt...I was honestly going to tell you tonight-"

"Why?" He asked, getting slightly irritated. "Did you think I'd get mad at you and my Dad? Did you think I'd get insecure, and think that I was being replaced?" He shook his head. "I'm not angry about the baby; I've always wanted a little brother or sister. I'm just angry that you guys assumed I wouldn't be happy." He sat back, not looking her in the eye. "And anyway, you know the statistics, especially if you have kids at your age..."

"I know," Carole admitted. "I know. It wasn't exactly planned, but..." She sighed. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No thanks," Kurt muttered. "I'm busy."

Carole stared at him for a few moments, not sure what to do; in the end, she stood up and left the room, knowing it was best to leave him alone. Kurt watched her leave before sitting up again, grabbing the plate with the cupcake, and standing up; he walked over to the doorway, left it outside, and shut the door firmly. He didn't want it.

* * *

"Thanks, Finn."

Finn gave her a weak smile. "So, you're sure your parents are definitely gone for the weekend?"

Quinn laughed, leaning against him happily. "If you're worried about getting caught in my room, you're safe."

"Cool." He looked around, wondering what the hell he was doing.

"So," Quinn said, trying to start a conversation. "You're sure that your step-father doesn't mind staying with a friend for the night? I mean, we have lots of bedrooms here..."

"No, he's fine," Finn assured her, giving her a small grin. "He didn't want to interrupt anything between us; he said he needed to catch up with his friends anyway."

Quinn smiled, relaxing completely as she took a sip of her drink. "You know, Finn, I really appreciate you being here...just until everything's over and done with."

"It's the least I can do," Finn told her honestly, and she nuzzled her blonde head into his shoulder. He briefly had a flashback of Rachel doing that in the garden of the house, and tried to shake it off. "Are you sure you don't want anyone else to be there? For extra support?"

"There isn't anyone else," Quinn admitted sadly. "You're the only one I could tell about it..." She sighed. "I feel so bad. I mean, what would God think of me doing this...to a baby...to our baby..." She shook her head, trying to get rid of her guilt. "It's the right thing – it has to be." Finn nodded in agreement, taking a long sip of his drink. That was when the doorbell went off, and Quinn jumped up with a bright expression on her face. "Pizza! Stay here while I get it!"

Finn nodded again, watching to make sure she'd left the room before he took out his phone; he kept on getting texts from Rachel, who was wondering where he'd been. He'd guiltily told her that he was with a long-time best friend of his, and that he'd be back the next evening.

"Are you kidding me?!"

Finn shot upwards, surprised by his ex-girlfriend's shocked yell. "Quinn..."

"No!" She snapped, tears filling her eyes as she put the pizza boxes down on her dresser. "You promised that you were going to be here for me, Finn! And what are you doing? You're texting someone – is it your new girlfriend?"

"Quinn, stop it!" He stood up, hoping to try and calm her down.

"Give me your phone!" She yelled, reaching up to try and grab it; luckily, he was a lot taller than her, so she failed miserably. "You're meant to be here for me!"

"I am here for you!" He tried, putting his arms around her; because of his size, her attempts to push him away fell short. "I am here for you...I promised, and I'm keeping to that promise." She stopped struggling so much, and he took that as a good sign. "Anyway, my Mom keeps texting me because she's getting worried – never been this far away from home before.

Quinn pulled away, calmed down completely by his reassurances. "O-Okay..."

"No more calls or texts," He promised, putting his phone into his suitcase for extra proof. "Now, where are those pizzas?"

* * *

_What am I doing with my life?_ Carole thought to herself bitterly as she watched someone being slash-murdered on-screen. Her own step-son didn't want to spend time with her, and although she knew it was probably just the hormones caused by her pregnancy that were making her feel this way, she felt incredibly sorry for herself.

Her thoughts were interrupted when the doorbell went off. She sat up, pushing herself out of bed, and looked at the alarm clock; it was nearly midnight. Who'd be calling at their house at this time in the evening? Deciding to find out, she went downstairs, reaching the door just as the person rung the bell again. "Who is it?" She put her eye to the peep-hole, and looked out onto the front porch.

A pretty blonde girl turned around, looking at the door with hope in her eyes. "Excuse me, M'am," She said slowly. "I don't want to bother you, but I'm hurt and needing some help." It was only then that Carole noticed there was blood on the side of her head.

"What happened to you?" She asked, not feeling at all right about everything.

The girl was obviously caught off-guard by this. "I'm hurt," She repeated slowly. "And I need help. O-Open the door."

"You said that," Carole said, now feeling suspicious. "Can you tell me what happened? How did you get hurt?"

"Can't you see the blood on my face?" The girl asked, looking worried as she touched the side of her head. She looked to her left and back again, getting more panicked. "He's out here, let me in!" Carole bit her lip, deciding that it was best, and locked the door, causing a loud click. The girl noticed and got more anxious. "What kind of woman are you? He's coming, he's going to stab me!"

"I...I'm..." Carole stuttered, feeling awful. The girl started to bang loudly on the door, dry-sobbing. "I'm going to get help! Hold on!"

The girl didn't stop banging as Carole quickly hurried away to the kitchen, looking for her phone which she'd left charging. She froze when she found that the charger was unplugged, and her phone missing.

And then, just like that, the banging stopped. Turning around nervously, Carole walked back to the front door, looking around cautiously. She leaned forwards slightly to look through the peephole, only to find that the girl had disappeared. She heard someone walk past from behind her, and spun around to find nobody there. Heart beating faster, she took a couple of steps forwards and called out to her step-son from the bottom of the stairs. "Kurt! Kurt, get down here!"

Kurt came strolling down the stairs, looking annoyed. "Carole, this is very important, homework, I have to get it..." He stopped when he noticed the panicked look on the woman's face. "What's the matter?"

"Where's your phone?" Carole asked quickly.

"In my room."

"Go get it," She ordered, a lump in her throat. "Look, dial 9-1-1-"

She was cut off by the doorbell ringing again. "Who's that?" Kurt asked, suddenly nervous.

"Just go do it," Carole pleaded. "Go to your room, lock the door, call the Police, and don't come out until I tell you to."

Kurt nodded, realising that this was serious, and turned to run back up the stairs as the doorbell rung over and over again. He locked the door behind him, and ran to his schoolbag, looking for his phone. All that he could find was schoolbooks and pencils, and he quickly looked around his room in case his phone was lying around somewhere else.

He didn't notice that someone else was in his room, and was creeping up on him.

Downstairs, Carole had grabbed a lamp, and was holding it so that she was ready if someone tried to break in. "STOP IT! I'm not letting you in this house! I've called 9-1-1, and the police are on their way!" She looked through the peephole again, and saw that someone had their back to her; they spun around, and she saw that they were wearing a black pin-up mask.

Jumping back out of shock, she didn't realise that someone else wearing a mask had snuck up behind her, and as she came face-to-face with them, she let out an ear-piercing shriek.

* * *

Kurt and Carole watched as the three home-invaders surveyed them, each of them holding bags full of something. "We have money," Carole blurted out. "Please, just take anything!"

"We're not here for money," One of them – a female – said, and Carole realised that it was the girl who'd been at the door. "Masks off."

All three of them reached up and removed their masks; two young girls and a young man.

"The transcript was very clear," The blonde continued. "The teachers saw C. Menkins, that he had nothing to hide." She checked her watch. "Twelve minutes-"

"And then the fun begins," The other girl finished off – a skinny brunette teenager, who smiled at the thought.

The blonde pulled something out of her bag. "I have something to show you guys." She unwrapped it from the cloth it was wrapped in, revealing a chipped ashtray.

"No way," The boy said – a mixed-race teenager, by the looks of it – as he grinned.

"I got it off of eBay. It's authenticated," She looked around at the companions, clearly pleased with herself. "It's the one he used to bash Emma."

"Let me see it, Kitty..." The boy said, grabbing it and grinning. "Woah."

The brunette teenager looked at Kurt and Carole, who had been watching in horror. "Now, who goes first?" Kitty surveyed both of them, tapping her knife against the chin thoughtfully as her friend spoke. "Which one's Shannon?"

The mixed-race boy and the brunette both looked at the blonde for confirmation. She pointed her knife at Carole tauntingly, before changing her mind and pointing it at Kurt. From beside her, Carole felt Kurt's breathing pick up. The brunette threw some clothes at him, and the other four people in the room waited to see what he would do.

Kurt Hummel was a fighter; he threw the clothes back at his captors. "Screw you, you psychos!" He hissed out. "I'm not putting it on!"

"You have to," The brunette told him sternly. "Everything has to be perfect."

The boy leaned down at grabbed at Kurt's shirt, ripping it open. "Take your clothes off!"

"Hey!" Carole snapped, not okay with them treating her step-son like that. They ignored her, and Kurt kicked at the other teenage boy to keep away from him. "Look, put it on me!"

"Oh, you'll both be wearing uniforms," Kitty said, smirking at her. "C. Menkins hated teachers; he had a bad experience with a teacher who liked to hit children with the ruler. That's why he took Shannon-" At this, she pointed at Kurt. "-upstairs and drowned her in the tub. Excuse the pronoun difference." She moved to stand in front of Carole, smirking down at her. "And you, Emma...He saved you for last."

"C. Menkins was the first, before Manson," The brunette informed them happily. "He changed the culture. We're paying tribute to him."

Carole looked up at them, feeling quite sick. "We're not going to be part of your re-enactment," She told them quietly, not sure what the Hell she was doing.

Kitty rolled her eyes, and tossed the clothes back at Kurt. "Put this on. You won't like it if I have to make you."

Kurt looked down at the clothes in his lap, trying to come up with a plan. He stood up, looking between the clothes and the home invaders quickly; suddenly, he threw the clothes into the blonde, and kicked out to knock her backwards. Not wasting a single moment, he ran out of the room, leaving his step-mother with the three captors; when they tried to run after him, Carole managed to kick out from her position on the floor, and knocked them over so that they were stalled.

Kurt, panting harshly, fled through the kitchen and to the door that he knew lead to the basement. He looked behind him, wondering if they were following him, only to have a hand shoot out and wrap around his mouth; he was pulled into the pantry, his screams muffled by the person's hand. He looked up, expecting to see one of the attackers – but to his relief, he was face to face with Blaine.

"Blaine," He breathed, trying to be quiet but failing because of how out of breath he was. "Blaine, they're trying to kill me and Carole-"

"Get them to the basement," The shorter boy ordered, not sparing anytime.

"What are you talking about?"

"The basement!" Blaine snapped, voice low. "Get them to the basement!" With that, Blaine stepped backwards just as Kitty came into the room, hiding himself from view. Kurt was grabbed by her, and by the time he'd been dragged out the door, Blaine was gone.

* * *

"This is some serious art," The teenage boy commented, looking around the living room with awe. "Why are you trying to cover it up?"

Carole sniffed from where she was tied to a chair. "I didn't like it." The boy took a step forwards so he was right in front of her; she felt awfully exposed, having him stare down at her like that.

"You know, no one's going to come and save you," He taunted, bending down so that they were eye to eye.

"They don't have to," Carole murmured, her voice getting higher and higher as she fought back tears. "You could just stop now."

"Why would I want to?" The boy taunted. "Silly." As he walked past her, still admiring the room, Carole saw that Becky was standing in the next room, watching what was going on.

She felt hope ignite itself in her chest. "Well," She said slowly, making sure not to give anything away to him. "I don't think you're going to kill me tonight." The boy stopped looking at the artefacts in the room, listening intently. Carole continued, hoping that Becky would get the message. "Because I think that _someone_ is going to stop this, and they're going to get _help_...and you're all going to fry."

"Brutal," The teenager breathed, clearly not suspecting that someone else was in the room. He turned to look into the next room where Becky had been standing.

She was gone already.

He smirked at her just as the faucet upstairs started to run. Carole looked up at the ceiling, wondering what the Hell was going to happen to Kurt.

* * *

"What's taking you so long?" Kitty asked, pointing her knife at Kurt. Kurt glared up at her, trying to wriggle into the large gym shorts he'd been given – it was obvious that this 'Shannon' person had been a P.E teacher of some kind.

The brunette teenage girl walked into the room, and as Kurt looked up he realised that she was eating his cupcake.

"Really, Marley?" Kitty snapped, getting annoyed. "You're eating?"

"It was, like, sitting there," Marley defended with her mouth full of cupcake. "It practically said 'eat me'."

Kitty rolled her eyes and looked back at Kurt. "Hurry Up! Time's ticking!"

"What's going on downstairs?" Kurt asked, hoping that Carole hadn't been hurt yet.

"Did you get all the cell phones?" Kitty asked, ignoring his question – it was clear she was getting more and more stressed.

Marley nodded. "Yeah. I told you..." She paused, going slightly pale. "They're in the kitchen, and..." She stopped, a loud rumble sounding from her stomach. "Uhh...stomach ache..."

"Answer me!" Kurt shouted, getting worried. "What's he doing to my step-mother?"

Marley let out a groan. "Jesus...I think I'm going to shit myself."

"Not in the staging area!" The blonde gritted out, looking pissed off.

"D-Don't start without me!" Marley warned, backing away and running to find another bathroom.

Kitty watched after her, shocked. Kurt tried to move forwards, but she caught his movements and grabbed his arm. "Are you kidding me?" She drawled, pointing her knife at him and looking at her watch. "It's ten-fifty-seven." She looked up at him. "Get in the tub!" She pushed him into the tub, and then stuck her head out of the bathroom doorway. "Marley, hurry up! We're starting soon!" She looked back at Kurt, who was giving her a pitying smile. "You have to put someone under the tub for three minutes until they lose consciousness. The brain begins to die from oxygen deprivation."

Kurt blinked and smiled, giving a small laugh.

"This is funny to you?" Kitty demanded.

"What's funny is that you think you know everything about this house," Kurt retorted smugly. "Really, you know nothing. This isn't even the right tub."

"Second floor bathroom," Kitty shot at him – although she looked nervous now. "I studied the crime scene photos."

"The one he used is in the basement," Kurt informed her. "We remodelled this bathroom."

Kitty took a threatening step closer. "You think I'm going to fall for that?"

"It's a grimy, claw foot tub, with a rusty faucet," Kurt said, completely guessing. Luckily, he seemed to be right, as Kitty looked around desperately at the running water and the silver bath tub that Kurt was standing in.

She stuck her head out of the bathroom door. "MARLEY!"

* * *

"Can I ask you a question?"

Sue smiled up at him politely, her hands skimming his shirtless torso.

"Do you think I can model?"

Sue looked at him up and down; with his blue eyes, tanned white skin and blonde hair, he could definitely model. "You know what...if you got a haircut, you could do anything you wanted to.

Sam smiled at her, his hand reaching to stroke her wrinkled face. "You're beautiful too, you know?"

They were interrupted, however, by a loud knock on the bedroom door. Sue rolled her eyes and stood up to open it – it was Becky. "I told you," Sue hissed. "I was in a business meeting. You're meant to be watching Robin."

"There's a bad man next door!" Becky told her, looking serious.

"I know," Sue agreed. "I don't like Baboon Heart or his spawn either, but they own the place, and that's that. Now, go and watch Robin." She slammed the door in Becky's face, turning around to look at Sam again. "What were we saying?"

* * *

Marley retched into the waste basket in Kurt's room, holding her hair back. "This isn't right," She murmured. She puked up another bit of barf, and spat to clean her mouth out. She pushed herself up off the floor, clutching her stomach in pain as she wondered out of the bedroom in search for Kitty. "You guys..." She walked down the hallway. "Kitty? I...I think I need to go to the hospital. Maybe we could come back later and finish this off..." She walked into the bathroom, only to find that nobody was in there.

Out of the corner of her eye, suddenly, she thought she was someone walk behind a curtain near the bathtub. "Hey?" She called out, moving forwards. "Where did you guys go?"

When she looked behind the curtain, there was no one there. She breathed heavily, feeling that she was going to puke again, and turned around.

Suddenly, someone had struck an axe through her abdomen. She gasped out, trying to get a good look at the person; a teenage boy with gelled hair. He furrowed his eyebrows with concentration, pulled the axe out of her stomach, and then striking her again.

* * *

Carole couldn't help but breathe out a sigh of relief when the intruder she was with cut her bonds open, freeing her hands and feet from the chair she was tied to. "Dress up time," He chuckled, pulling some clothes out of a nearby bag. "Get up." He yanked her up, and she whimpered in pain. "Don't try anything."

Carole looked down at the ground; she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of looking at her face. "Will you turn around while I change?"

"No," He snapped immediately.

"Then I will," She turned around so that her back was to him, well aware that he was leering at her from behind.

As she lifted her jumper over her head, she heard him snort to himself. "Stupid looking clothes that teacher's wear. I can totally get why he hated them."

She stopped undressing and looked around the room for something she could hit him with. There wasn't anything within her reach that she could go for – except for the ashtray.

Making her mind up quick, she swung her jumper around, hitting him in the face, and made to grab the ashtray. He grabbed her legs, tripping her up before she could grab it. He rolled her onto her back and sat on top of her, unsheathing his knife. "I don't give a shit how you dress!" He snarled. It was just a couple of centimetres away from her outstretched arm, and she reached for it...just a little further...

As he put his knife to her throat, she managed to grip the edge of it, and swung it into his face. He was knocked backwards, but still conscious; she quickly raised herself so that she was above him, and slammed the ashtray onto his face a couple more times until she was sure he was passed out.

Giving a huge sigh of relief that she wasn't dead, she remembered that her step-son needed her.

* * *

The lights flickered slightly as they turned on, a whirring sound in the background. Kurt tried not to shake as he felt Kitty press the knife to his back, taking small steady steps down to the basement; he didn't know what Blaine had planned, and he didn't want to find out.

"You better not be messing with me," Kitty warned when they reached the bottom of the steps, looking around.

"I'm not," Kurt said slowly. "It's down here...right around the corner."

As he turned, the lights went out. Kitty looked around in the darkness, trying to find out where the teenage boy had gone. "Where are you?!"

"Over here, you stupid bitch!"

A light turned on from the right, and Kitty slowly made her way towards the voice and the light. Stepping into the room, she looked around, her breathing harsh.

"I already filled it with water for you."

She spun to look at Blaine, who was gesturing casually to a bathtub full of water. Kitty took a step closer, wondering what the Hell was going on...

* * *

Upstairs, Carole was searching for Kurt. It didn't escape her notice that there was blood smeared across the walls, and she tried to ignore the churning in her stomach.

She quickly ran to the bathroom, remembering that this was where the other home invaders had taken him.

* * *

Kitty pointed her knife in front of her, ready if the other teenager attacked. She looked into the bathtub next to where Blaine was standing.

There was a dead body in there. Kitty let out a mangled scream, her hand reaching to cup her mouth in shock.

The dead body sat up and glared at her.

* * *

Carole groaned in frustration when she got to the bathroom and realised that Kurt wasn't there. Her panic levels were starting to rise, and she hoped that the boy downstairs was not going to wake up anytime soon.

* * *

Kurt had shot out of the basement, ignoring the screams he could hear. He slammed the basement door behind him and ran to look for Carole so that they could get the hell out of there.

Just as he reached the staircase, Carole came running down, breathing harshly. "Kurt!" She grabbed his arm, and they looked around in case one of the intruders was coming after them. "Come on, let's run!"

They made for the front door, running to get away from the horror in their house.

* * *

Sue sighed as she watched Sam sleep; he looked innocent, and-

She stopped. She could hear footsteps running down the road. Sue stood up to look out the window, and just as she pulled the curtain back, she could hear the voices of her neighbours screaming.

"HELP!" Carole was screaming, holding onto Kurt tight as they ran for it. "HELP! SOMEONE CALL THE POLICE!"

Sue watched, her adopted daughter's warning coming back to her quickly.

* * *

When Jake woke up, his head was throbbing. He vaguely remembered the bitch hitting him with an ashtray, and he supposed that she'd run away.

As he blinked, he thought he could see someone walk past the doorway. Groaning, he pushed himself up off the floor, and mumbled things to himself as he tried to figure out what was going on. "Kitty! Kitty...the bitch has gone! I think she's downstairs!"

Groggily, he made his way into the kitchen and down to the basement, aware that his companions had gone downstairs with the gay teenage boy to drown him.

The basement was flooded in total darkness, he realised as he touched his head. The steps creaked as he went down them, and he looked around for a light; he saw one to his right, and made his way towards it.

That was until he heard someone walk behind him. Jake spun around, thinking that it was Carole sneaking past him. "Man, I'm just gonna kill that bitch!" He ran to catch up with the person, only to find himself in another room.

"Holy Shit."

The first thing he saw was Kitty, her throat slit and her body limp on the cold tiled floor. His gaze swivelled up, and he found himself looking at two people; one of them looked as if they'd been drowned, and the other as if she'd been stabbed. Both of them were wearing outfits not too different from the ones the invaders had forced Kurt and Carole into that night.

If he didn't know any better, he would have thought he was looking at the two teachers Cooter Menkins had killed back in 1968.

* * *

Finn couldn't help but feel awful as he watched Quinn fill out the necessary paperwork for the procedure – it made him feel even worse, knowing that he couldn't go into the room with her.

A bang from behind Quinn made them both look up; a young lady was being wheeled away in a wheelchair, looking exhausted and ill. Quinn looked back at the paperwork, trying not to panic. "I'm okay," She told him numbly, giving him a small smile. "Really. It's the right thing, for both of us."

"I'm so sorry," Finn apologised, feeling it pouring out of him. "I'm so sorry you have to make this decision because of me. I wish I could fix it."

"I just wish you could come in with me," Quinn breathed, looking down at her lap.

Finn opened his mouth to say something, only to be interrupted by a nurse. "Quinn? They're ready for you."

Quinn took a deep breath and gave Finn an anxious look. "I'll see you when...it's over."

"I'll be here when you get back," Finn assured her, giving her hand one last squeeze.

Quinn slowly stood up, taking her paperwork with her, and walked over to the waiting nurse. She handed her the paperwork, and followed her to the have the procedure done.

Finn, left on his own, put his head in his hands, dragging his fingers over his face as he tried to get his head around everything that was going on. His phone went off, and he saw that it was from Burt. Sighing, he answered it. "Dude, I'm waiting-"

"Finn, we've got to go home _now_."

Finn frowned. "Are you alright, dude? You sound worried..."

Burt breathed out. "I...Carole and Kurt...someone invaded our house...there was a home invasion."

Finn shot upwards, forgetting completely about his promise to Quinn to still be there afterwards. "Burt, I'll be there in five minutes."

* * *

Sue tutted as she walked through the basement, finally stopping next to Santana and Blaine in front of the dead bodies of Jake and Kitty lying in pools of blood. "Jesus Christ." She turned to look at Blaine with slight pride. "Is this your handiwork?"

"No," Blaine muttered, eyes still fixed on the bodies.

"It was them," Santana added, her voice morose.

There was a short silence between the three. "We have to get rid of the bodies," Blaine decided.

Santana nodded slowly. "I'll get the shovel. You get the bleach."

* * *

"So you were both in Lima when this took place?"

Burt and Finn both nodded; Finn looked down at the table, not sure whether or not to say what he was doing in Ohio at the time. "Yeah," Burt mumbled.

"What was your business there?"

Finn didn't look at his mother or step-father – he was leaving it to Burt to answer all of the questions, in case he screwed up. "Finn wanted to see some of his old friends there," Burt said to the detectives, his tone honest and open. "I went with him because he's not eighteen yet, and I knew that his Mom would want him to be safe."

"What happened?" Finn blurted out, and all of the adults looked at him. "I mean, to the guys who did it?"

"Well, we found Miss Marley Rose about half a mile from here," The first detective, a bulky one, informed them. "She was practically cut in half – we think that she got scared halfway through, tried to make a run, and then her friends ran after her and did a Black Dahlia on her."

"The attackers have been recreating murders around the country," The second one, a tall one, continued. "We'll keep looking for the other two. Don't worry."

"Even in a town this big, people don't just disappear." They both stood up, clearly done gathering the stories they needed. "We're going to check the kitchen for more prints."

As they left the room, Kurt walked in. He looked truly _awful_, Finn decided; he wasn't wearing as many layers, and he was just _so_ pale. Burt stood up, worried at seeing his child so bad. "Kurt...Carole said something about...about some boy helping you escape..."

"Yeah, Blaine," Kurt informed him, looking down at the floor. "He's a friend of mine." He looked around at Carole. "Thanks for not dragging him into all of that, by the way..."

"Well, what was this boy doing in the house?" Burt demanded to know.

Kurt shrugged. "How am I supposed to know?"

"Kurt-"

"You think I let him in?" The teenager fumed, angry that his father would assume such a thing. "I don't know why he was here...but I'm glad he was." He glared at his father. "You weren't." Kurt walked past his father to go into the next room, only to stop and turn to face his step-mom. "You were really brave, Carole." He gave her a small smile and left the room.

"He's just shaken up after the whole ordeal," Carole offered up, knowing what her husband was thinking. Finn blinked, not sure what to do. "I'm going up to my room," He decided hoarsely. "I'll...I want to sleep."

He left the room, knowing that the two adults were going to want to talk in private.

"I'm sorry we weren't here," Burt apologised, folding his arms as he leaned against the wall. "But we had to do something important."

"We're not blaming you," She murmured, looking at the table. "But you're here now, and that's alright." She took a deep breath and stood up to leave the room. "Burt, I want to sell this house."

"Wait, what?" Burt asked, shocked.

Carole sighed. "We're selling this house."

"But we just moved in!"

"After what's happened, you still want to live here?" She asked, looking confused. "Burt, we were attacked! I can't stay here!"

She walked out of the room, leaving him on his own.

**Reviews greatly accepted! :D**


	3. Murder House

Murder House

1983

Santana Lopez hummed a tune to herself as she made up the bed in the Master Bedroom, trying to ignore how high up her skirt was riding up – she felt exposed like this, and she didn't like it.

From the corner of her eye she saw Rod – Sue's newest man – watching her work, a drink in his hand. "Don't stop," He insisted, making a pleasured face.

"I'll be finished in her in a minute," She muttered, hurrying up to tuck in the edges of the duvet.

"Why?" Santana felt a chill run down her spine as the older man stepped closer. "It'd be such a shame to waste a beautiful bed." He drained his glass of beer and put it on the dresser before coming up behind Santana. He put his hands on her ass, running them down her legs.

"Don't!" Santana snapped, trying not to get angry or upset. "Stop it!" She pulled away from him, staggering a little in her shoes. "You're drunk! Please, I really need this job..."

Rod snorted as he took another step closer to her. "Well, you liked it the last time."

"That was a mistake," Santana admitted, tears in her brown eyes. "I was just lonely."

Rod just stared at the maid, lust in his eyes. "Do you want a Volvo?" Santana rolled her eyes, desperately wanting him to understand what was going on. "I can buy you one, if that's what it takes."

"No," Santana sighed. "I-"

She was cut off by Rod grabbing her; she screamed out as he threw her onto the freshly made bed, his hand over her mouth so that her sobs were muffled. His other hands reached down to unbutton his trousers and pull them down.

From outside in the hallway, someone had heard what was going on.

As Santana continued to squirm and cry, the person walked into the room. Neither of them noticed that she was there until there was a gunshot and the shatter of a window.

Rod yanked himself off of Santana, who sat herself up with a terrified expression on her face. Sue came to stand in front of them, looking hurt and angry. Rod pulled his pants up, his breathing harsh.

Sue looked between them, and raised the gun; she shot Santana in the eye, causing the Latina maid to fall off of the bed, blood spattering the wall behind where her head had been. The older woman turned to look at Rod, shaking her head in disgust. "I thought we were exclusive."

"Sue..." Rod tried. "Please put the gun down..."

Sue didn't; she raised her arm again and shot three times into Rod's chest.

2010

"I am just horrified for you and your family," Marcy said, although her tone didn't indicate it. Carole rolled her eyes at the other woman's brittle tone, and set a cup of coffee in front of the realtor. "I hardly know what to say, really. And I can just imagine how you might be feeling anxious given all of the-"

"Nope," Carole denied sitting down with her own cup of tea – she'd stopped drinking coffee on Kurt's advice because of the baby. "Not anxious. I'm angry."

"You know, that's how I felt when the boys did...well, you know what they did," She stirred her coffee. "We'd gotten rather close – they'd have me over for Bloody Marys, and omelettes on a Sunday." She paused. "So to find out what nasty little perverts they were-"

Carole choked on her tea.

"-You've probably heard about the poker from the fireplace being rammed up-"

"Marcy!" Carole interrupted, feeling very uncomfortable with this conversation. She sighed and continued with her request. "We have to put this house back on the market. And we have to make back everything we've put into it...we just can't afford-"

"You know," Marcy chimed in lightly. "You might want to lower your expectations a little bit; prices on the housing market are dropping _daily_. And these things aren't about to change until 2013 when we vote that vomit out-"

Carole shook her head, not taking this for an answer. "Well, here's the bottom line." The older woman looked at her, listening with a slightly confused face. "You owe my family. Under the law, you are obligated to disclose _any_ facts that might have influenced our decision to buy this house."

"Excuse me, dear," Marcy snapped, not used to getting talked to like this. "But the law actually requires us to disclose any death on the premises within the last _three_ years. _I did that_." She took a deep breath and looked down at her cup of coffee. "Nobody's buying me cooking classes, Mrs Whatever-Your-Name-Is."

"Hudson-Hummel."

"Whatever. Nobody's looking out for me!" Marcy furrowed her eyebrows, lifting her cup off the table and looking at her client seriously. "Do you know where I live? I live in a three hundred and fifty square foot _guest-house_." She sat back, giving a heavy sigh. "I'd kill to live in this house, regardless of the history!" She took a sip of coffee, and Carole put her head in her hands, trying not to stress too much because of the baby. "You know, you probably need a more season realtor, someone who's more specialized-"

"Oh?" Carole remarked sassily. "You think you were my first call? I called _every_ realtor in this city this morning, but you know what? _No one_ will take this listing, so here's the plan. You are going to bake cookies; you are going to go buy beautiful and expensive fresh-cut flowers; you are going to make up some nice stories about all the lovely people who have lived here! You are going to do whatever it takes, and _you_ are going to sell this house." She smiled snarkily at the older woman. "And then me and my family are going to go and live someplace safe, and in return, I won't sue you for gross criminal negligence."

Marcy was stunned into silence by this outburst; it was clear she'd never been spoken to like that before.

"So," Carole said lightly. "Are we on the same page?" Marcy nodded quickly, eyes wide. "Good. See, someone's looking out for you."

* * *

As Burt took a sniff of the coffee in the pot, trying to decide if he could drink it, he heard a gravelly voice from behind him say, "It's fresh. I just made it."

He put the coffee down and found himself face-to-face with Santana, wearing her sexy maid's uniform as usual. She looked at him through heavily-lidded eyes, and slid a mug towards him. Keeping his eyes away from hers, he took the cup and poured himself his coffee; he could feel Santana's gaze on him, and tried not to heat up at the thought of her staring at him.

As he put the pot down on the counter, Santana gave him one last smile and walked away to continue her jobs.

* * *

Sue didn't often sneak into other people's houses – but then again, it wasn't as if this house wasn't _her_ house. She used to live there not too long ago, and so she technically had rights to come and go whenever she wanted to.

Humming to herself as she opened up a box of cutlery, she didn't realise that someone else had entered the room. It was only when she had picked up a shiny looking spoon that she heard a knock on the door, and she spun around to see who had interrupted her.

"Oh," She said casually when she saw it was just an elderly Santana. "It's just you." Sue picked up a couple of knives as Santana stepped closer to her, glaring at her harshly. "Do me a favour, would you? Go polish these so I can take them home." She smirked at the Latina woman. "It's ruddy with corrosion. You wanna know why? Because you're a _shitty_ maid."

Santana grabbed the knives out of Sue's hand, not saying anything. She started to polish them, one-by-one, with the white apron on her skirt. "Let me guess; you're going to add these to your magpie stash?"

"Until I have a full-set," Sue agreed, picking out more knives and forks from the box. "And then I'll auction them off on e-Bay, and earn myself a bit of money. Meanwhile, _you_'ll be accused of theft, and fired." Sue grinned at the idea, clearly pleased with herself. She continued to talk as she walked to leave the house, taking pleasure in teasing the younger woman. "After all, you _are_ a thief, Santana; of biblical proportions, in fact." Santana stopped walking, leaning against the wall. Sue turned around to look at her. "Your specialty, if I remember correctly, is weak-willed boyfriends."

As Sue started to walk away, Santana lost it; she threw down the cutlery in her hand with great force, her face screwing up. "I DON'T WANT TO BE HERE ANYMORE!" She screamed, and Sue turned to look at her again. "I'm frightened! I miss my mother!"

"You think I wanna stay here?" Sue challenged, walking forwards and frowning. "Sandbags, I have no choice! Now, try to find some dignity in the situation. Move on."

"I can't!" Santana sobbed, her voice low and weak. "I want to, but I can't!"

Sue scoffed. "Every time I look at you, I actually start to feel just a _little_ sorry for you..." She paused, shaking her head to clear it. "But then I remember that you made this mess for yourself. And I also remember..." Sue smirked again, clearly getting her confidence back. "Every time I see that ghostly eye of yours...that I was, and continue to be one hell of a shot."

Santana bowed her head, not wanting to give Sue the satisfaction of staring at her eye. "You need to pay for what you've done."

Sue took a deep breath. "Oh, I do. Everyday."

She walked off, leaving the maid leaning against the wall surrounded by cutlery.

* * *

The last thing Burt wanted to see when he walked in through the door after a long day of job-hunting was the maid cleaning with her ass high in the air, her skirt hitched up so that he could see her underwear. "Santana...what are you doing?"

Santana turned to look at him, shifting her legs so that they were further apart. "Why, I'm cleaning the floor Mister Hummel. I mean, who'd want it to be...dirty."

Burt sighed, not wanting to have to deal with this as soon as he got home. "Alright, fine-"

"You see, Mister Hummel," Santana purred, rotating her hips on the spot. "I'm very discreet if anyone asks...very discreet." Burt shook his head, and walked past her to go to the Front Room to sit down. "Don't worry," Santana told him, standing up to follow him. "I did this room first, so it's all clean." She smirked, coming up right behind him so that he was trapped. "I got all of the stains...Do you want to make a new one?"

_Holy Shit._

Burt turned around to look at her. "Santana..." Santana ignored him, moving in even closer. "Look, get away from me."

"Oh, but don't you think about it?" Santana teased, putting a manicured hand on his arm. "Don't you think about the blood...pumping, rushing..." She put her arms around his waist, her intentions clear. "Think of it filling you up...filling us both up..."

"I'M DONE WITH THIS!" He yelled, managing to grab her arms and shake her harshly. "Stop harassing me, Santana! You know what? You're fired!"

"What the Hell are you doing?"

Burt and Santana both turned to look at Carole; all she could see was her husband gripping their elderly maid tightly.

* * *

"I didn't want to get physical with her!" Burt insisted, trying to ignore the way his wife was glaring at him. "I had no choice, Carole, I swear! I mean, I've rebuffed every single one of her advances – and believe me, there are lots of them – but she just won't stop!" He glared at Santana, who was just staring at him in a confused manner. "With her unbuttoning...and bending over!" He gave up, throwing his hands onto the counter.

"I don't mean to be presumptuous," Santana said callously, clearly angered by what was being said against her. "But my days of romance are well over."

"Oh please," Burt scoffed, leaning against the counter and sneering. "The way you prance around in that little maid's outfit like you're headed to a fetish ball...Don't wanna clean people's houses in your own clothes my ass!"

Carole shook her head, not sure what to say to him anymore. "Burt, it's okay. Really."

"Madam," Santana started, her voice very morose. "I'm not naive to the ways of men. They need to objectify, conquer...they see what they want to see." At this, she side-eyed Burt, who just sighed. "Women, however, see into the soul of a person."

"Is this what you do?" Burt snapped, looking lost. "Entrap employers?"

Santana lifted her head, trying to appear proud. "That said, I understand that you two are under a lot of stress; money, the baby, what happened here the other night. I don't mean to listen, but the walls here are paper thin. This unfortunate incident aside, I am happy to work for the two of you. I certainly need the money – times are tough. You know what, I'm perfectly happy to forget the whole thing."

Burt obviously didn't like this idea, and squirmed on the spot uncomfortably. Carole bit her lip, deciding that she was going to have to be the one to say something. "Well, Santana, it might just be better...if you-"

"Just leave?!" Santana interrupted, looking hurt and angry. "JUST TOSS ME OUT LIKE A PIECE OF TRASH?! No, you won't! Not this time, I deserve respect!" She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself while Carole just stared at her. She took a look at Burt, glaring at him with tired eyes. "If your husband lays a hand on me again, or tries to fire me with unjust cause, I will press charges!"

Neither of the adults said anything to her. Santana took another deep breath, and turned to leave. "I changed the sheets in your bedroom," She informed them civilly. "There are fresh towels in the downstairs bathroom. If you don't mind, I'd like to take a longer lunch than usual..."

Burt blinked at her, trying to get his head around how deep her voice dropped as she fluttered her eyelashes.

"I'm quite shaken," She murmured before quickly winking at him.

Burt shook his head slowly, not sure what the hell was going on. "She's lying," He said, hoping that his wife would believe him. "I knew we shouldn't have hired her in the first place, I knew it."

"You know what I think?" Carole muttered, not even looking at him. "I think that your short trip to Lima has tired you out. And I think that you're acting out and being paranoid and crazy...and you have to get it together." She took a deep breath. "And then we have to get out of this house. I'd like to do that without a lawsuit."

She walked away, leaving him to stare at the countertop.

* * *

Carole had been gardening when she'd found out. Just as she was clipping the roses at the bottom of the garden, she'd heard some sort of music playing – moments later, someone had started speaking, and she looked up to see what was going on.

"_And the next stop on our Tour of Departed Souls,_" A man said, and Carole squinted in the sunlight to get a good look at what was happening. "_Gem of Midtown, Murder House_."

Moments later, a tour bus had pulled up; people had started to pull out their cameras, and were taking pictures of something...

Of the house.

* * *

Finn panicked slightly as he heard someone slam the door to the house – he thought everyone had gone. He quickly shuffled to try and hide behind the pillar he was leaning against, but it was too late.

"Relax," He heard his step-father say. "I'm not here to bust you."

Finn stared at him, sort of confused by why he wasn't in trouble. "Why not?"

Burt sighed. "Last week was pretty tough...the abortion, your mother and Kurt getting attacked while we were gone...it can't be easy on you."

"I'm fine," Finn mumbled, wanting to be left alone. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay," Burt gave in. "But if you ever want to talk to somebody, Finn-"

"Okay," Finn interrupted, waiting for him to leave. "I get it, and I'll think about it."

Burt nodded in agreement, walking away from the tall teenager. Finn watched him leave, not quite used to having a fatherly figure to look up to.

"You're really lucky," Rachel said softly, suddenly appearing from nowhere. "He seems like a great dad...or step-dad, in your case. You can tell he really cares."

Finn nodded in agreement. "Yeah. He does."

* * *

One of the disadvantages of skipping school, Finn realised quickly, was that when both his parents were out, he was left home alone.

The doorbell went off about five minutes after Burt had left to go job-hunting again. Thinking it was Rachel wanting to hang out again, he ran to open the door. "I'm sorry I took so long, I thought you wanted to..."

He trailed off when he saw who it was. Quinn.

"What are you doing here?" Finn asked, feeling as though his legs were about to collapse from underneath him.

"I'm not stupid, Finn," Quinn muttered, making her way into the house. "I saw you and that brunette bimbo of yours." She smiled at him as he shut the door. "I just wanna talk."

"In my house?" Finn asked incredulously. "I called you hundreds of times..."

"You left me there, Finn," Quinn reminded him icily. "Without a word. By myself."

Finn sighed. "I know, I know. I'm sorry. But I told you in my messages...we had a home invasion here. We had to come back."

Quinn didn't say anything, and Finn remembered suddenly about the abortion.

"Did everything go alright?" He asked awkwardly.

Quinn smiled again. "Oh, I didn't have the abortion."

Finn's heart stopped beating. "What?"

"I decided to keep the baby," Quinn said, smiling even more. "Our baby. I'm moving here. And, of course, you're paying. You're going to be a father to our child. I've already started looking for a place for us..."

Finn shook his head, trying to process everything. "Quinn...you really haven't thought this through. I have a new girlfriend now...Rachel...and I love her a lot. And as for support...Quinn, I'm only seventeen! I have no money!"

"I'm not a whore," Quinn told him, taking a step closer to him. "I matter, Finn."

"I kn-"

"I MATTER!" She yelled, getting angry. Finn stopped talking immediately. The doorbell went off again, and Finn panicked in case it really was Rachel.

Taking a deep breath, he took one last look at Quinn and turned back to open the door. He found himself face to face with one of the detectives who'd been interviewing him and his family last week. "Are you Mister Hummel?"

Finn shook his head quickly. "Uh, no. I'm his step-son."

"Finn Hudson?" The Doctor checked, and the tall teenager nodded. "I'm Detective Joe Colquitt. May I have a moment of your time?"

From behind him, Quinn appeared. "The Detective wants to talk to me," Finn muttered to her, feeling embarrassed that the person at the door was watching.

"Fine," Quinn gave in. "Meet me tomorrow for lunch at one o'clock. There's a Norms down the street." She walked past him and the Detective, not looking back.

* * *

_A cocky young man strode down the back alleyway, well aware that someone was following him. After a few more steps, he turned around to look at the other man. "Change your mind?"_

_The man frowned. "No."_

"_No?" He rose an eyebrow, taking a step in closer to the taller man. _

"_I ain't no faggot."_

_The shorter man smirked cockily as he looked down between them and up again. "That's not what your dick says."_

_The tall man looked down and up again; suddenly, he reached out to bring the small man into a headlock, repeatedly punching his head with the other hand. He shoved him up against a wall, pulling out a knife. _

"_Easy man!" The gay young man said. "You were cruising me! I thought you were fair game."_

_This just enraged the attacker even further. "Cruising you my ass!" He lurched forwards, fighting the other man's struggle and stabbing him in the chest repeatedly. _

_When he pulled away, he was panting harshly; his victim fell to the floor, weak from blood loss..._

"Sal Mineo was thirty-seven years old when he died. Golden Globe Winner and two-time Oscar Nominee, his father was a coffin maker who never accepted that his son was gay. They sent away a petty criminal African American named Lionel Ray Williams for the murder, calling it a robbery gone wrong. But you'll find a hard time finding anybody who believes that in this town. Most people believe that Sal Mineo died of a hate crime."

Carole couldn't help but shiver slightly, despite the fact that it was warm and sunny outside. Maybe it was just because her step-son was gay himself, or maybe it was the hormones getting to her.

"Our tour concludes with one of the most famous house of horrors in the City of Angels," Their tour guide concluded as the tour bus stopped at another site – their house. "Better known as Murder House..."

Carole stared at the house as the tour guide continued talking, completely entranced by the history she was hearing.

"Built in 1922 by Doctor William Schuester, acclaimed surgeon to the stars, for his wife Terri, a prominent east-coast socialite..."

"_Will!" _

"But when Doctor Schuester fell on hard times, he turned to drugs..."

_A man poured the medicine onto his wad of cloth, and inhaled deeply. _

"...And he developed a terrifying Frankenstein obsession..."

_In Will's office, there were many jars; dead animals, foetuses, insects... The office was located downstairs in the basement, away from society and his wife's judgemental eyes. _

"_Will?" Terri called, wandering throughout the house hurriedly. "Will!"_

_Downstairs, Will continued with his experiment, ignoring his wife's calls for him. He stared intently at the wing he was trying to sew onto the dead pig, a small smile creeping onto his face as he realised he was doing it right so far. _

"_Dammit, Will, are you down in the basement again?" Terri grabbed at the door handle, yanking it open and starting to storm downstairs. "Will?!"_

"_For God's Sake!" The curly-haired man snapped, spinning around to glare at his wife. "I'M WORKING!"_

"_Working," Terri sneered from the top of the steps. "I wish. Now, come upstairs for dinner. You've made us wait five whole minutes!" _

_Will turned back to his creation as his wife walked back upstairs, her shoes clicking and echoing around the dark room. Suddenly, he yelled out and tore the wing out of the pig's side. "You've ruined it," He snarled, reaching for his cloth of ether and inhaling deeply. _

* * *

_Will jerked upwards when the baby banged its rattle against the side of its plate, gurgling loudly. God, he hated that baby. He smirked at Terri when he realised what he was wearing. "What have you done to that baby? I can't tell if it's a boy or a girl."_

_Terri gave a high-pitched laugh, pouring more wine into her glass. "You're a disgrace, Will. How you can call yourself a man...is beyond me." As the baby started to cry and Will stared at her, it all came out into the open. "You think I came here from Philadelphia for...for _this? _This life, this...house."_

"_I built you this house," Will grumbled, not happy with where this was going. "Exactly the way you wanted it."_

"_And how many servants do we have?" She questioned, looking around. "Two?!" As Will stood up, Terri carried on talking, clearly sick of having to have bottled this up. "And I'm expected to do everything else?" Will ignored her, and went to grab the wine bottle, pouring more into his half-filled glass. "Good, Will. Drink your talent away. You're a waste. Even looking at you, I find myself sick to my stomach."_

_Will looked down at her. "You'll see. They will write articles about me one day. Especially in the Boston Medical Journal." He raised his glass to drink from it. _

"_HA!" Terri taunted, leaning forwards with a malicious glint in her eyes. This was clearly the last straw for Will, and he suddenly threw his glass down onto the table, smashing it and spilling liquid everywhere. "HaHa! Good job, Will! Break everything!"_

_As the baby started to wail loudly, screaming and screwing his face up until it was red. Terri sighed, and put her head in her hands. When Will didn't make a move to do anything, Terri picked up the little bell next to her plate and rang it loudly. _

_Moments later, a nursemaid came into the room, heading straight for the baby. "Stephanie!" Terri scolded the maid. "When you hear him crying, you have to come in straight away and take him upstairs!"_

"_Yes, M'am," Stephanie said, picking up the baby and cradling him while murmuring sweet nothings in his ear. _

_As she left, Will walked around to the other end of the table, looking down at the floor, and sat back down in his seat. "They came again today," Terri murmured brokenly, her eyes gazing into nothing. "The bell-collectors." When Will didn't say anything, she got quickly got angry. "Will! Do you hear me?!"_

"_I'm not deaf!" Will snapped. _

"_You listen to me," Terri muttered, leaning forwards so that he could definitely hear her. "You are going to support this family, one way or another. I've arranged for a girl to come to this house tomorrow morning with sixty dollars cash." Terri took a deep breath. "She's in trouble...she probably has friends...so you better not screw up."_

"...An estimated two dozen girls went under Doctor Schuester's knife, thanks to his wife Terri," The tour guide concluded, and Carole felt her stomach churn even more. She wasn't sure if she was meant to feel this sick during her pregnancy, especially so early. "But the souls of the little ones must have weighed heavily upon them as their reign of terror climaxed in a shocking finale in 1926."

Carole didn't get to hear anymore...the bad feeling had spread downwards to her crotch, and she looked down when she felt a dampness pressing across her pelvis and thighs. She jumped in shock as she saw a lot of blood in her white trousers, and quickly looked for a way to get out of the tour bus.

Thinking quickly, she pulled her cardigan off, tied it around her waist so that no one could see the stain, and quickly stood up to open the door that was luckily next to where she was sitting. She jumped down, ignoring the looks that the tourists were giving her, and ran to the house quickly.

"You can't go in there, M'am!" The tour guide called.

She turned her head, not even pausing in her running. "This is my house!"

* * *

"Okay," The Doctor said cheerfully, looking through the results as she sat down in her seat across from the couple. "So...the mother's health looks good...the uterus looks good...and the baby looks good."

"So I didn't miscarry?" Carole checked hopefully, clenching onto Burt's hand tighter.

"Nope," The Doctor informed her, giving her a small smile. "Just a little spotting. You say that it stopped after a few minutes?"

Carole nodded, somewhat suspicious of the circumstances it had been under. "Right after I went into the house..."

The Doctor shrugged, smiling even more. "Well, when you're pregnant, you have fifty percent more blood in your body. A little discharge is perfectly normal."

"So if this happens again, we don't need to worry?" Burt asked, slumping back into his chair out of relief.

"No, definitely not," The nurse agreed. "No worrying. Worrying is bad for Mommy, which is bad for the baby." When the two adults just shared a look, the Doctor sat back. "Uh-oh. Have you been worrying more than you should?"

"Well..." Carole admitted, flushing a little. "Recently there was...there were some issues in our house. But we're putting it back on the market, so-"

"Read my lips," The younger woman interrupted. "_No._ _Moving_." Carole stared up at her, confused. "Not while you're pregnant. Death, divorce and moving; these are the three most stressful events a person can experience. We don't want any stress that could affect the baby." She smiled at the two, obviously hoping she'd gotten her message through. "I think you two should go out for a nice big lunch."

* * *

Sue snorted to herself as she walked down the road; she could see the peppy realtor putting up a 'For Sale' sign outside of the Murder House; _yeah, good luck._

She stopped walking, however, when she looked up at the house and saw him; Blaine was standing, looking out of one of the upstairs windows. Her smirk disappeared, and she awkwardly lifted her hand as a way of greeting at him.

Blaine frowned, stepping back and walking away from the window.

Sue dropped her hand quickly and carried on walking. She noticed that the realtor had been staring at her, and rolled her eyes slightly to get back her confidence. "Heh. Good Luck selling this lemon," She remarked, gesturing towards the house as she walked past.

* * *

"Leave me alone."

"Dude! I helped you out of a sticky situation!" Finn snapped around to look at Puck. "You owe me big time!"

"I don't owe you anything!" Finn snarled, getting annoyed with all the crap he was having to deal with. "I'm not speaking to you."

Puck smirked. "Oh, I see...the little adventure to Lima didn't go too well, did it? Is that chick still giving you grief? Do you want me to sort her out?"

"It's none of your business," Finn growled as he started to walk away. "My life is none of your business. Now just leave me alone!"

"I will!" Puck promised, running to keep up with Finn's long strides. "But I just need you to do something for me!" He coughed. "I need a thousand dollars."

Finn halted to a complete stop. "What?! Are you crazy? Why the Hell would you need a thousand dollars?"

"I'm starting a band," Puck bragged smugly. "We need the money to get started, and then we're gonna hit the big time."

"I'm not giving you a thousand dollars!" The tall teen turned to face Puck. "Listen to me; don't come near me! Don't go near my step-brother or our parents! If you bother me again, I'll call the police! You understand?!"

He didn't wait for an answer though; he strode away again, leaving the scarred teen standing on his own.

* * *

Carole had been looking through a newspaper to see if there were any ideal houses for sale when the doorbell rang. She put her pen down on the counter and walked down the hallway.

She was still, honestly, quite nervous about opening the door; whenever the doorbell rang, she kept on getting flashes of the constant ringing of the doorbell before the invasion, and it terrified her still. Because of this, she decided to peep through the peephole first, just in case. "Hello?"

She could see a woman; she was dressed in rather old-fashioned clothes, and appeared to be quite a bit jumpy. "Are you the woman of the house?"

"Are you here to look at the house? Did you have an appointment?"

The woman blinked, making her mind up quickly. "Yes."

Carole hesitated before speaking again. "Well, you'll have to call the realtor."

"Oh," The woman nodded slowly. "Okay. I can come back another time..."

It was in that moment that Carole started to feel sorry for this woman; hesitance still getting the better of her, she dropped down from her tiptoes and made sure to grab a nearby statuette from the table next to the door. She hid it behind her back and unlocked the door to let the woman in. "Wait," She prompted softly, seeing that the woman had already turned away. "Come in."

The woman gave her a small smile, stepping into the house and looking around in wonder.

"My husband's upstairs," Carole informed her as she shut the door, just in case the stranger wanted to try anything.

The woman smiled, as if overcome by something. "Oh...this wood...it's so lovely and warm." She looked around in awe. "One almost never sees chestnut anymore."

Carole nodded slowly, lowering the object from behind her back slowly. "Yeah...I never really knew what kind of wood this wa-"

"And that's Louis Comfort Tiffany glass!" The younger woman exclaimed, beaming even more. "Inspired by the iridescence of butterfly wings, you see."

Carole's eyes widened, and she wondered how the hell she could possible know that.

"Oh, look at the blue." She turned to look at Carole, half-posing. "It matches my eyes, doesn't it?"

_Oh, it does... _Carole mused, honestly speechless by the knowledge of the house this woman was presenting.

The other woman leaned forwards. "Your eyes are a beautiful colour too."

"Oh, thank you..."

The woman smiled, pointing upwards. "And this must be one of the chandeliers imported from New York."

"Oh, yeah," Carole confirmed. "There's four of them. Um...do you want to see the kitchen?" The woman nodded, following after Carole further into the house. "As you can see, we modernized it quite a bit..."

The younger woman had stopped dead in her tracks; she looked around with wide eyes as she took in the new additions the kitchen, going quite pale. "I...I don't like this, it's not right. It's not what I want." She looked over Carole's shoulder. "W-What's that device?"

Carole looked. "Oh...that? That's a Pasta Arm...It's for filling up big pots of water." The woman looked down at the floor, her hands shaking. "Tell you what; if you decide you want the house, I'll make sure we have it removed."

"D-Do you think I could have a glass of water?" The lady asked, her voice sounding quite dry.

"Oh, yeah, of course...Unless you want some tea? I-I was making some tea before..."

"A-Alright," The woman stuttered out, sitting down gingerly on one of the chairs in the kitchen. As Carole went to pour out the drinks, she heard the other woman stutter out, "D-D-Do you have children?"

"Why, yes," Carole answered, turning around to give her the cup. "In fact, I have a son, a step-son...and I'm pregnant right now."

The stranger nodded slowly, her smile fading slowly. "I had a child once."

Carole was about to say something, but was cut off from her phone buzzing behind her. Turning away for a moment, she looked at the text – from Finn, saying that he'd be back late because he was with a friend- and then back at where the other lady had been sitting.

The other lady was gone.

* * *

Kurt really hated this. He tried not let out a groan as their realtor – a young twenty-something year old with a belly button ring – showed them around what looked to be a very modern but dirty apartment.

"So, as I mentioned on the phone, the carpet will be steam-cleaned before move-in. There's a dock there for your iPod or your i-Whatever..." She turned to face them, obviously waiting for their opinion.

"Well," Carole said tactfully. "I like that security guy at the door..."

"Excuse me," Kurt interrupted, rolling his eyes at the apartment. "Can me and Carole just have a quick talk? Alone."

"Sure," The young woman said, clearly not bothered. "I'll just be downstairs in the rental office. Oh, and I've got someone else coming in twenty minutes."

As soon as she'd gone, Kurt turned to his step-mother with a 'bitch-please' face. "You know what, I'm so glad that we moved all the way to California since we could be anywhere..."

"I think this has a certain-"

"You and my Dad dragged Finn and I from Ohio all the way out here," Kurt snapped. "You said that it would be a new start as a family."

"I don't think you've quite processed what happened to us in that house," Carole retorted, shaking her head slightly. "It was devastating, Kurt...That was a nightmare."

"This place is the nightmare!" The teenager argued, looking around with annoyance. "I love our house; it's got soul! It's where you and I kicked some ass, Carole...You say that we're the victims of something bad there, but it's really the place that we survived."

Carole took a deep breath, trying to reason with him. "Honey, I love that you see it that way. But I'm pregnant, and I just can't stay there. This is the decision that your Dad and I have made for this family..."

"Whatever," Kurt bit out, turning away from her. "But I'm telling you, if you go ahead with this stupid plan, then I'm out of here. I'll run away – Finn will too. He loves our house just as much as I do."

Deciding not to say anymore, he walked out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

Finn was going to crack; he could feel it. The guilt about not telling Rachel was eating him inside, and he knew that she was definitely aware that something was up with him. He was stressed because Kurt had suddenly stopped hanging around with him, and now he had no one to help him understand his homework.

His frustration only increased when the doorbell went off. His Mom and Kurt had gone out to view some houses, Burt was out looking for a job again, and Rachel had told him that she needed to see a family member, so he was confused as to who would be ringing the doorbell at this time.

Anger taking over him, he strode up to the front door and yanked it open. His mouth fell open as he found himself facing his ex-girlfriend, who did not look pleased. "Oh my God...Quinn..." Opening the door further, he started to babble out apologies. "I'm so sorry, Quinn, I-"

"You left me waiting in the Norms for three hours!" Quinn snarled, storming inside the house. "Is your little girlfriend here?"

"Quinn..."

"Her name's Rachel, isn't it?" Quinn demanded, not waiting for him to answer before she continued. "RACHEL! ARE YOU HERE?!"

"Stop acting crazy!" Finn pleaded.

Quinn spun around to look at him. "Do _not_ call me crazy!"

"Calm down..."

"I'm not crazy, I'm angry!" Quinn seethed, turning away again. "Where is she? She needs to know! RACHEL!"

Finn reached out, putting his hands on her shoulders. "Quinn, you need to-"

"DO NOT PUT YOUR HANDS ON ME!" Quinn yelled, spinning around again and panting harshly. Her eyes were filled with tears, and Finn knew he was going to have to be calm with her.

"You're upset," He guessed, and she nodded. "You have every right to be, but before this spins completely out of control, we need to go someplace to have a talk."

"I want her to know," Quinn demanded. "She needs to understand that you have other obligations!" As Finn nodded, she stepped closer to him. "I think we should tell her together."

Finn hesitated. "We can discuss that too."

Quinn shook her head, her emotions overcoming her. "I'm not going back to that Norms."

"Okay, fine," Finn agreed. "We can go wherever, I don't care."

Quinn slowly started to smile, eyes bright again. "Well...I am eating for two." When Finn didn't say anything, she leaned forwards and pressed a kiss to his lips. When her tongue started trying to enter his mouth, she pushed her away gently.

"L-Let's just go and talk," He mumbled, going red.

* * *

"You know what I'd love?" Quinn questioned as they walked out the door. "A big, fat juicy-"

_BANG!_

Before she could finish, someone had hit her in the face with a shovel; she dropped to the floor, completely knocked out. Finn looked up, only to see that Puck was standing there, looking down at her with a shovel in his hand.

"Hmm...no," Puck said decisively. "She's still moving." Before Finn could react, Puck had brought down the shovel on Quinn's face again and again.

Finn, completely in shock, moved forwards, grabbing Puck by the front of his shirt and shoving him onto the grass behind. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!" Without thinking, he started punching the other teenager violently.

"Easy!" Puck choked, bringing his hands up to his face to defend himself. Managing to gain the upper hand, he shoved Finn off of him into the grass, and the taller teen got a look at the now limp body of his ex-girlfriend .

"Shit!" He rushed over to her, stumbling slightly, and bent down to check to see if she was breathing. She wasn't.

Puck appeared from behind him. "Yeah...she's dead."

Finn couldn't help it; he started hyperventilating, mumbling out "oh God oh God" over and over again as he tried to lift Quinn's body from the floor. "What the Hell are you doing, man?" Puck asked, raising an eyebrow at him. "Taking a DNA bath?"

Finn looked up at him, and his eyes narrowed. "She's dead," He hissed out, panting harshly. "You're a murderer! YOU'RE A MURDERER!"

"Yeah...but you're not," Puck pointed out, eyes glinting slightly. "And now all of your problems are solved. She was going to tell your girlfriend everything...we couldn't have that!"

"I-I-I'm gonna call the Police," The tall teen decided lamely, looking around with lost eyes. He dropped Quinn's body back to the floor and scrambled to stand up.

"Are you sure you wanna do that?" The scarred teen asked, and Finn stopped in his tracks. "She was your ex-girlfriend, dude. And she _was_ carrying _your_ baby. I mean, how is that going to look?"

Finn realised Puck was right, and started to cry.

"I just don't see that going well for you." Deciding to change his tactics, he stepped forwards and put a hand on Finn's wrist. "Hey, it's gonna be alright, dude..."

Finn jerked away from Puck's touch, feeling as though he was having a breakdown.

"You just gotta get yourself cleaned up," The mohawked teenager advised, giving him a small smile. "Before anyone from your family gets back." He pointed to himself. "I'll take care of the body. It's not a problem."

He turned away from Finn and towards the dead body of Quinn, figuring out how to pick up the body and where to put it. As Finn started to shake, the other teenager walked across the yard to grab a shovel, and started to survey the soil nearby.

_Oh my God...what the Hell am I going to do?_

"Hey!" Puck called over cheerfully. "The soil here's pretty toxic! Why don't we just dig it up and dump the body there?"

Finn didn't answer, instead getting down on his knees in front of Quinn's body and feeling her wrist; he was still desperately hoping that she had a pulse, even if it was a weak one. No luck.

"Hey, Finn?" Puck called, and Finn looked back up. "I could really use that thousand bucks."

* * *

The process of burying Quinn was a difficult one; when Finn went inside the house to get cleaned up, he suddenly felt sick to his stomach. Knowing he'd never make it to the bathroom on time, he threw himself at the kitchen sink and puked his lunch back up.

Outside, Puck had managed to get a good start on digging a large hole. As he dug the shovel back into the dirt, however, he hit something solid. Frowning, he bent down and moved the soil with his hands. He stopped when he realised he was touching the remains of a dead body, and bowed his head slightly in respect.

From upstairs in the house, Santana had been watching. Her face crumpled up as she watched the teenager discover _her_ dead remains, and a small part of her hoped he was going to remove the remains.

Deciding that this hole was deep enough, he pulled Quinn's dead corpse into the hole, laying her down in a somewhat dignified position next to the skeleton he'd discovered. He took a moment to sigh as he surveyed the bodies, his shoulders slumping before he grabbed his shovel again and started to fill in the hole.

After the hole had been filled in, it was clear that they couldn't just leave the earth overturned like that. Puck suggested that Finn should build a gazebo over the graves, and Finn agreed monotonously.

After Puck had left, Burt had been the first to come home. "I want to build a gazebo," Finn stated before the man could even open his mouth to greet him. "I think it would look nice...especially since I was trying to garden earlier but I got...carried away. The gazebo could cover it."

Surprisingly, Burt agreed without questioning. They managed to find the materials they needed in the basement, and the tools in the shed, and then the two men started to work.

Watching from the window, Santana didn't say anything when Sue appeared from behind her, folding her arms as she watched the scene in interest. "Poor girl," She muttered, although she was smirking slightly. Santana's face was starting to screw up again as she fought back tears.

As Burt and Finn started to spread concrete over the overturned mud, the older woman leaned closer to the maid. "Now you're stuck here _forever_." Santana shook her head, tears rolling down her cheeks as she cried.

When Carole and Kurt had arrived home later from their day of house-searching, the two men had managed to start putting the wood for the floor into space. The two of them watched in slight amusement as they worked, somewhat pleased with the prospect of a brand new gazebo.

By the time dinnertime had rolled around, Finn and Burt were putting up the wooden poles that would hold the roof of the gazebo in place. Before too long, it was getting too dark for them to continue building. Even though Burt reassured his step-son that they would finish the gazebo tomorrow, Finn still didn't like this idea and panicked throughout the night.

By the next afternoon, it was finished. While Burt and Carole both sat back while drinking a glass of soda each, enjoying the view of the new addition to the garden, Kurt and Finn both went to test out the gazebo as a place to sit. Although Kurt thoroughly enjoyed being able to sit in the sun outside and do whatever he wanted, Finn seemed a lot more resigned than usual, and didn't say a word.

* * *

That night, as the Hudson-Hummel household slept peacefully, they were all blissfully unaware that someone was inside their house.

As she sat down on the bed, Terri looked down at Carole's growing stomach, wondering about the baby inside. For one moment, she reached out to touch the other woman's stomach; Carole shifted in her sleep and rolled over before she could do anything, and Terri's hand retreated.

**Review please! :D Also, any ideas welcome!**


	4. Halloween: Part 1

Halloween: Part 1

2009

A year before the Hudson-Hummels moved in, there had been another family – it consisted of two retired actors named LeRoy and Hiram Berry, and their spoilt teenage daughter Rachel.

On Halloween the year before the Hudson-Hummels moved in, Hiram had been carving pumpkins for the party that they were throwing; he didn't know where his partner had gone, although he had a good idea. Their daughter was upstairs, practicing her singing – she'd said in a rather bossy tone, "I'm clearly not going to get proper lessons, am I?" and decided to keep up her vocal training in her room.

Moments later, LeRoy walked in, head down so that he didn't have to look at his partner. "I'll be home around four," He muttered, heading straight for the fridge to grab a drink. Hiram looked up, deciding whether or not to bite back the bitchy comment brewing in his mouth.

As LeRoy tried to walk away, Hiram stopped him suddenly. "I need help..." He muttered, looking his partner straight in the eye. "...carving these pumpkins!"

"Who is that meant to be?" LeRoy asked, nodding his head at the one Hiram had just been carving into.

Both of them looked down at the pumpkin for a moment. "It's Maria Antoinette. I'm doing a famous French figures theme this year."

LeRoy sighed. "You know what, I'm going to the gym."

As he walked past his husband and out of the room, Hiram cleared his throat. "Well, make sure you wear a condom." He pushed his glasses further up his nose. "And make sure to pick up some Gala Apples...the Golden Delicious I got just look dull and...depressing..." He sighed to himself. "No contrast. Like my life."

Moments later, LeRoy walked back into the room. "Why would I wear a condom at the gym?"

"Maybe because you're screwing that twink trainer of yours," Hiram accused, putting his hands on the kitchen table. "And I need Gourds. I'm planning on hanging them on the trees outside."

"You know what?" LeRoy said, putting his bottle of water down on the counter. "What if I was?"

"Was what?"

"Screwing my trainer," LeRoy folded his arms, trying to appear superior. "It's probably not a bad idea...I think he'd be a great power bottom – he'd love it."

Hiram lifted his hands and slammed them back onto the table. "First of all, please remember our agreement of 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell'. Secondly, is this crazy fantasy of yours meant to _upset_ me? Because at this point, I don't care."

LeRoy's shoulders drooped, and he shook his head as he gave up.

"Oh, and I need some dry ice," The taller man turned around to pour himself a drink. "Have you picked out a costume yet?"

"Why are you doing this?"

Hiram rolled his eyes. "Because there's going to be a party here in a couple of days."

"You know what?" LeRoy started, getting angry suddenly. "I think this is bullshit! We've become bullshit! I don't give a shit about carving pumpkins or dressing up for Halloween!" He sighed angrily. "I want love, Hiram! I want passion, with you! With a man, not Martha Stewart!"

"THEN LEAVE!" He snapped, spinning around quickly. He walked around the counter as he spoke so that he was eye-to-eye with his partner. "Oh, that's right, neither of us can; all of our money is in this house that we agreed to flip and make a mint on, but now we can't because the economy is in the shitter! I mean, do you think I like carving pumpkins?!" He growled slightly. "Sure, it was fun when our daughter was no older than six, but I don't want to get squash guts under my fingernails now!" Hiram sighed. "I'm trying, here. I want this place to be warm, and inviting...and just fantastic. Maybe that way someone will see the house and buy it off of us." He took a step closer to LeRoy. "So carve a pumpkin, get a goddamn outfit and man up."

As he stepped away again, giving them both some space, LeRoy looked down at the floor morosely. "I can't believe this is what we've become...arguing over Halloween decorations..." He grabbed his water bottle, wanting to leave the house, and headed for the doorway. However, he stopped at the last moment to look back at the other man. "What happened to giving our Rachel a brother or sister? We were going to have a baby...this great life..." At this, Hiram looked up with wide eyes. LeRoy shrugged to himself and left, not having anything else to say.

* * *

Rachel hated hearing her Dads argue – before the move, they'd been the picture of the ideal couple; loving, they doted on their daughter... And now they couldn't stop arguing over stupid things.

Sighing to herself, she smoothed out her skirt as she checked that her outfit was the right size; if making the house look pretty on Halloween and dressing up was what it took to make her Dads happy, she was willing to do it. It had been a long time since she'd last dressed up – five years, to be exact – and she decided that it would be a good opportunity to practice her acting.

As she spun to admire herself from all angles, she noticed from the corner of her eye that there was someone standing in the doorway. Thinking it was one of her dads, she put on a smile and turned to face them properly. "How do I look?"

The figure didn't answer, instead stepping into the bedroom. Rachel noticed that the person was wearing a Rubber suit of some sort, and she gave a laugh. "Very scary...a bit bland, but..."

The Rubber man kept moving towards her, tilting his head slightly. "You know, if you can't talk then what's the point in wearing that outfit? How are you going to tell me how pretty I loo-"

She was cut off by the figure grabbing her by the shoulders and shoving her into the set of drawers across the room.

* * *

Not noticing the commotion from upstairs, Hiram had poured himself a glass of champagne and started drinking heavily. He knew he wasn't meant to, what with his daughter in the house, but he was so sad that he didn't care.

After about ten minutes of drinking his sorrows, he got up to look inside the barrel of bobbing apples. He sighed; even when he was half-drunk, they didn't look right. He sat back down, rubbing his face with his hands. "Red is wrong..." He mumbled, feeling like banging his head straight into the table. "It has to be green."

Someone entered the room, and he turned to look at them; a person in a rubber suit. Hiram blinked before smiling slightly, raising his glass to the figure and taking a sip. "Funny," He muttered, in a better mood now. "It's good, actually...very sexy-scary."

The figure didn't move or speak.

Hiram lifted a paper bat from the table. "How about you come and help me with these bats? We could talk things over..."

The figure tilted their head.

"I'm sorry," Hiram continued sincerely. "I'm sorry for everything; my attitude, my low sex drive...it's probably low testosterone from stress. I'm going to see a doctor next week."

Finally, the figure moved towards him, still not saying a word.

Hiram looked up at them, smiling widely and standing up so that they were able to talk at eye level. "So, did you get apples?"

Without warning, the rubber man threw Hiram across the room, knocking food and utensils off of the shelves. Not giving the bespectacled man a chance to regain his strength, Rubberman bent down and picked Hiram up before throwing him across the table, causing his glasses to fall off. Now unable to see, he stumbled around on the floor blindly, trying to find a surface to pull himself up on.

Rubberman, however, was faster; he walked around the table, grabbed Hiram by the collar of his shirt, pulled him upwards and shoved him into the barrel of bobbing apples nearby. Hiram struggled as the mysterious figure shook him about; in a second, he'd broken Hiram's neck.

Done with him, Rubberman pulled Hiram out of the barrel, throwing him to the side. A second later, LeRoy had walked in wearing a cowboy costume; he halted when he saw what was going on.

Rubberman looked up, locking eyes with him.

2010

"This is unacceptable, Marcy," Carole stated irritably as she grabbed a container full of pasta, slamming the fridge door shut and stalking to the other side of the kitchen. "One person has seen the house in two weeks? And she didn't even stay for the whole tour because she was so spooked out by it."

"You need to do something," Burt agreed, nodding along with his wife.

"Don't but the blame on me here, Mr Hummel," Marcy defended. "This house has an image problem, it's as simple as that. Fix that problem and the property will sell very fast."

Burt and Carole shared a look. "Well, what are we supposed to do?"

"I think we need a fluffer here," Marcy decided, resting her clasped hands on the table in front of her.

Carole raised an eyebrow as she spooned some pasta into a bowl. "A what?"

"Fluffers," The older woman repeated as Carole sat down. "People that we can hire to come in and give a dash...a dash of style to this place."

"We have style," Carole said indignantly.

Marcy raised her eyebrows. "Everybody thinks that they have style, and everybody thinks they're funny. Most people aren't."

_I am,_ Burt thought to himself privately as he quickly took a piece of pasta from his wife's bowl.

"That's why in my business we have fluffers," Marcy explained. "They come in, they rent some accessories, maybe karate-chop a few throw pillows...they make this home look like a magazine spread. It's Halloween; imagine the mileage you could get if you decorate your front porch with divine _cheery_ pumpkins. Lots of happy trick-or-treaters means parents who talk to their friends...it means more looks at the house...basically more PR."

All the time, Burt and Carole had been exchanging confused and unsure looks; they didn't know if they wanted a fluffer, if they were honest.

Marcy leaned forwards, staring straight at Burt. "I heard that you were egged last night, Mister Hummel."

_Burt had woken up in the middle of the night, and he groggily looked around to see what could have woken him up. Having been young and a troublemaker himself, he immediately realised that it was the sound of people throwing eggs at the house windows. _

_He quickly jumped out of bed, heading for the stairs and jumping half of them. He shoved the front door open and headed straight outside, not caring that he was freezing cold. "HEY!" He yelled as soon as he'd spotted the perpetrators – two young teenagers holding boxes of eggs. "GET THE HELL OF MY PROPERTY!"_

_The tallest one laughed, throwing his whole box at the older man. "Happy Halloween, asshole!"_

_The two of them ran off, laughing. Burt ran after them trying to keep up. "You little shits!" However, it was clear that he'd lost them. _

"Why did you tell her that?" Burt complained, looking at his wife with confusion.

Carole raised her hands in self-defence. "You know what? On this one topic, I actually agree with her." She stood up to put her bowl in the dishwasher. "We have an image problem. I mean, we're on the Murder House tour, for God's sake." She turned to look at the realtor. "Marcy, do you know any of these fluffers? Can you get them immediately?"

"Yes," Marcy nodded. "A wonderful English lady, a real pro...but she's more expensive than the young gay fellow I know."

Carole and Burt both looked at each other. "Let's go with the young gay guy," Burt muttered while Carole said, "Yup, the gay fellow".

"I'll call the fluffer," Marcy finished cheerfully, standing up.

* * *

As Sam shoved the chocolate chips into his mouth, he shifted the storybook in his arms and smiled at the teenage girl sat next to him. "_Halloween comes from the Celtic holiday of Samhain,_" He read out, chewing his food quickly so that he could continue. "_It commemorated the end of the harvest festival. They celebrated it to ward off their fears. The Celtics believe that on October 31__st__, the boundary separating the realms of the living and the dead disappeared._" He made a face at Becky, who smiled at him. "That's why we wear costumes; to ward off the ghosts."

"No way I'd ever wanna be a ghost," Becky decided. "It's just so sad."

Sam grinned and nodded in agreement just as Sue walked in through the kitchen door with some groceries. "So, what are you going to dress up as this year, Becky?"

Becky leaned in closer to Sam and whispered it; the blonde pulled away, grinning at her. "Are you blushing?" He teased, stroking her cheek with his finger. "Look at you! You know what? I think that's a hell of a costume."

Sue, who had been watching with a sour look on her face, interrupted the moment. "Did I say you could eat all of my chocolate chips?" She questioned, and Sam quickly stood up to greet her. "I was going to make cookies out of those, but now someone's going to have to run to get me some more."

"I'll go," Sam offered, slightly muffled because of the food in his mouth.

There was an awkward moment of silence where Sue looked between Sam and Becky, and the short girl turned her face away, smile disappearing quickly. Giving in, Sue reached into her tracksuit pocket and pulled out a five dollar note, extending her arm to him to take it. "Get me a carton of chocolate chips – without eating them."

Sam took it from her, giving her a wide smile. "Cool. I can use the change to fill up my bike."

He reached to grab his jacket and turned back to the older woman. He gave a small smile at her and took a step closer. Giving in, Sue turned around and pecked his lips quickly. As Sam backed away, he turned to Becky. "Bye!" He whispered loudly, pulling a funny face. Becky smiled at him, going slightly red.

When the door had shut behind him, Sue was on the younger girl quickly. "What the Hell are you doing?" She spat, not looking impressed in the slightest. "You know how to read." Sue raised an eyebrow as Becky looked away. "Please. You just like mooning over him...do you remember what happened to the last one?"

"It wasn't like that!" Becky defended, shutting her eyes. "He was just reading!"

"One minute he's reading, the next his hand is down your pants," Sue sneered, turning back to her grocery shopping.

Becky sat up straight. "He smells better than the last one."

Sue stopped what she was doing and turned to look at her adopted daughter. "What did you say?" Becky didn't answer, instead just blinking. Sue moved in closer, bending down so that they were eye-to-eye. "Now, you listen to me, Becky," Sue hissed, glaring at her. "I have given every inch of my life to look after you and your siblings for the last thirty-something years. I would kill or die for any of you four..." She took a deep breath, trying to keep calm. "But I won't share the affections of the men I bring into this house with _anyone_, you understand?" Becky looked down, giving a small nod. Sue looked down at the book that Becky and Sam had been reading from and sneered at it. "What is this? Huh...Halloween. What did you tell him you wanted to go dressed up as?" When her daughter didn't answer, Sue added bitterly, "You and your boyfriend keeping secrets now?"

Becky stood up and pulled a piece of paper from her jacket. She walked up to Sue, unfolding it. "I wanna go as her," She stated as the older woman turned to look. "As a pretty girl."

Sue smirked and gave a small laugh. "You can go as Snoopy again." Becky threw her head back, annoyed. "The costume will still fit...if you lay off those chocolate chips."

"I don't wanna go as Snoopy again," Becky complained.

"You'll go as Snoopy, or not at all." There was a long silence before Sue walked to the door of the kitchen to leave. "Now, when the blonde gets back, send him upstairs." She lifted the book up. "And no more of this."

Just as she reached the doorway, however, Becky said something that made her stop. "The dead can walk freely on Halloween."

Sue slowly turned to look at the short girl. "We've always known that."

* * *

By now, the doorbell ringing had become a bad omen. Finn mentally crossed his fingers as he opened the door, only to find himself looking at the scarred face of Puck. "Trick'r'Treat!" Puck said cheerfully, holding up a container of sweets and laughing.

Finn rolled his eyes, looked around to check that no one was watching, and stepped outside while closing the door behind him. "What are you doing here?" He asked in a low voice.

"Umm...Trick'r'Treating?" Puck shifted his container, making the sweets inside rattle against the edges. "It's Halloweek! I do the full seven days – it's the only time I can be myself." At this, he gestured to his face. "So...err...just put the thousand dollars in the pumpkin here, and nobody will be the wiser."

Finn glared at the other teenager, and started to shove him away from the house. "Get off of our property now!"

"Or what?" Puck taunted, looking back at him with a smirk. "You'll call the cops?"

"You know what?" Finn breathed harshly, taking a step closer to him. "I just might. _I_ didn't do anything."

Puck raised an eyebrow. "No? Well, that gazebo in the backyard showed up pretty quickly. I wonder, did you get the permit to build it? Maybe somebody should call the City's inspector and have them take a look..."

Finn's shoulders slumped slightly at the realisation, but leaned in closer to the other teen. "What's under that gazebo is what _you_ did-"

"But what's _inside_ what's under that gazebo is what _you_ did," Puck retorted. "That is not my baby in there! If your little girlfriend finds that out, God knows what would happen...Now," He shook his pumpkin container. "Give me my treat. You don't want to see the trick."

Finn blinked before making his mind up; he grabbed the container that Puck was holding, turned away from him, and kicked it to the other end of the garden. The other teenager's mouth fell open. "I'm done talking," Finn gritted out, turning around to go back into the house.

* * *

"I've agreed to this meeting because we need to clarify a few things," Burt stated. Blaine nodded meekly. "First of all, what were you doing here during the break in?"

Blaine took a deep breath. "The truth is, I was just hanging around outside...I was throwing a few pebbles at Kurt's window to get his attention...and then I noticed that the door was unlocked and half-open...so I went to see what was going on." He ducked his head. "I'm not proud, Mister Hummel."

"I understand," Burt admitted, shifting so he was more comfortable. "But this is why I don't want you around my son."

"I've tried to be a good person," Blaine started to babble, eyes filling with tears. "I mean, I told you about that job...I helped Kurt and your wife out during that invasion...I was just trying to help."

Burt sighed, feeling guilty all of a sudden. "I can't feel good about it, Blaine."

Blaine's head fell into his hands as he slumped forwards and started shaking with the sobs he was trying to keep back. Burt thought hard, trying to think of something that would work.

"Fine," He gave in, and Blaine's head shot up. "I can meet you for coffee later this week...but you have to promise-"

"I promise," Blaine interrupted, giving a relieved smile as he wiped away the tear tracks glistening on his cheeks. "No more being weird and hanging around, I promise."

Despite the teenager's reassurances, Burt didn't feel at all happy with the plan.

* * *

"This is your control panel," The security guy, Luke, said, pointing at the appropriate piece of the alarm system. Carole nodded, trying to remember what was what. "It operates one of the fifteen window and doors sensors." He pointed at another object. "This is an infra-red motion detector; it goes in the foyer."

"And that?" Carole asked, pointing at something that looked like a small remote control.

Luke picked it up. "This? This is your panic button. I'm gonna hide one of these in your nightstand, probably one here in the kitchen too. So if something goes 'bump' in the night, you hit this button and I'll be right there." Carole nodded, suddenly feeling much more reassured. "Now, given what you and your family have gone through recently, I'm expecting a lot of false alarms, so...don't be shy." He gave her a brief smile.

"Alright," Carole said, giving him a smile back. "If you say so."

"I do...questions?"

"I probably have a hundred questions," Carole admitted, looking at everything on the kitchen table. "But I can't think of any important ones right now."

Luke nodded. "Alright. Now, if you get a power-cut, or someone cuts the phone line-"

"Then we're in trouble," Carole laughed nervously.

Luke laughed too. "Yeah. Exactly."

* * *

When Carole walked into the Dining Room, she found Santana sitting in one of the chairs surrounded by a pile of pumpkins. Looking over the Latina's shoulder, she saw – with amazement – that the maid had carved a fantastic face into the pumpkin. "Did Marcy bring these pumpkins?"

Santana blinked. "Yes."

Carole smiled at the pumpkin. "Oh, that's nice..."

"Thank you," Santana said, smiling a little. "I enjoy crafts." She paused. "Mrs Hudson-Hummel, a question." Carole turned to look at her again. "May I have Halloween off? I'd like to visit my mother."

"Oh," Carole nodded quickly. "Of course."

Santana seemed grateful as she turned back to her now-finished pumpkin and smiled down at it. "Done."

"I'll put that outside," Carole picked the pumpkin up, smiling at her maid in a friendly way; even though she and her family would be gone soon, she enjoyed the maid's company very much.

Outside, she put the pumpkin down on the floor. Just as she straightened up, she heard voices from the side of the house.

"Ugh!" Someone remarked, and she squinted to see who it was; two men standing with their backs to her. "The roses have whitefly. Jesus, what an eyesore-"

"Hi," She interrupted, and both of the men turned to look at her.

The one who'd been speaking – the taller one wearing glasses – straightened up. "Hi. Love the house. So much potential."

Detecting the sarcasm in his tone, Carole gave a false smile. "Thank You. Are you Marcy's fluffers?"

The two men looked at each other and nodded slowly. "I'm Hiram Berry," The tall man introduced before taking a step forward to shake Carole's hand. He gestured to the man on his right. "And that's my ball and chain, LeRoy."

* * *

"You know, this is actually kind of fun," Burt stated, getting easily amused as the five of them – him, Carole, Hiram, LeRoy and Finn - carved pumpkins. "I never got to do this as a kid."

"Why not?" Hiram questioned, not looking up from his pumpkin.

There was an awkward silence. "So," Carole said lightly, tapping Finn on the wrist when he tried to eat some of the pumpkin insides. "This is what you guys do for a living. That's amazing to me...and wonderful, because style is so important."

"It's everything," Hiram scoffed, eyes concentrating on his pumpkin.

LeRoy snorted to himself, and Hiram lifted his head to glare at the man.

"You know what?" Hiram decided, throwing his carving knife onto the counter and picking up his glass of wine. "I'm so glad that we get to help you have the best Halloween ever. I love Halloween...so does LeRoy, because the bars are awash in twinks with six-packs and revealing outfits for you to stare at. Isn't that right?" He turned back to the other couple. "That's where he was going to go last year instead of helping me with the trick'r'treaters."

By this point, Finn's mouth had fallen open, and he glanced around at his mother and Burt to see their reactions. As the older man knocked back his drink, LeRoy raised an eyebrow at him. "Have another drink, dear. Crafting brings out his inner George and Martha."

"So, in addition to Halloween night and making everything inviting – which I get," Carole added quickly. "Do you guys have any other suggestions? For what we might do to the house to make it sell faster?"

"Actually, yes," Hiram stood up and went to look out the kitchen window. "The gazebo's gotta go."

Finn's head snapped up quickly.

"The lattice is wrong."

"I agree," LeRoy said, shrugging slightly.

"But we just put it in," Carole remarked.

Hiram smirked slightly at Burt. "Did you put that gazebo in yourself, Burt?"

Burt nodded. "Yeah, me and Finn did it last week."

"Well, let's get through tonight," Hiram planned gleefully. "And then we can tear it down and put in an...an organic cutting garden of some sort..."

Ironically, Burt ended up slicing the palm of his hand with his carving knife. "Shit!"

"Woah, are you alright, dude?" Finn asked, panicking as his mother and the other two men went to check over the wound.

"I think I'm gonna need stitches," Burt gritted out.

"No, it's okay," LeRoy insisted, looking between Burt and the cut on his hand. "I can fix it up. I just need a first aid kit."

Hiram snorted, stepping away from the group. "My partner here is a practiced EMT."

"I thought you were a fluffer," Carole inquired, looking extremely confused.

"You're hilarious, Carole," Hiram stated dryly. "And I love your hair colour - I can barely see any roots."

Carole grinned. "Oh, it's my natural colour."

"Where's your first aid kit?" LeRoy asked, breaking the moment.

Burt blinked. "Upstairs."

* * *

"Look at that," Burt muttered, grinning up at the other man in thanks. "It's a work of art. Thanks."Just as he stood up to leave, LeRoy's hand had moved and was now on his crotch. "What the Hell are you doing?"

"Come on, Burt," LeRoy smirked. "We're the same, I can tell. You play the role of a dutiful house-husband and father...but you like having that cock sucked often and well. I can do that. Four minutes, and no one will know."

"I'm not gay," Burt stated, trying not to remember that this was what his son would probably be doing in a few years.

LeRoy laughed lightly. "Neither was I until I got head from a guy." He bent down to try and undo the other man's pants.

"No!" Burt snapped before he could stop himself. LeRoy stopped and slowly straightened up. "No."

LeRoy blinked, obviously not used to being rejected. He looked down at his feet, ashamed of himself. "Sorry...it's just been a long time for me."

Burt sighed as he walked past the other man, not knowing what to say in this situation.

"Don't tell Hiram, okay?" LeRoy suddenly burst out as he turned around, making Burt pause. "We're not doing well."

Burt raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, no wonder."

* * *

"Your son seems very..."

"Handsome?" Carole prompted, sticking her tongue out as she cut out the paper bat.

Hiram shook his head. "Nervous." Carole stopped, her smile disappearing. "I don't know, it's just a...feeling I get...a darkness."

Carole just shook her head and changed the subject. "It seems like you and LeRoy are having problems."

"Yeah," Hiram agreed, scoffing to himself slightly as he leaned across the table to grab his own pair of scissors. "He can't keep his dick in his pants."

"What? You caught him cheating?" She seemed appalled, and he laughed.

"Yeah. I'm a sneak and a snoop." There was an awkward silence between the two for a moment; finally, Hiram leaned across the table, holding out his hand. "Carole, that bat is terrible. Let me finish it off."

* * *

Kurt hummed to himself as he touched up his hair in the mirror, admiring how he looked from all angles; recently, he and Blaine had been getting really close, and he was starting to like the other teenager quite a lot, so he'd decided to try and make himself look as attractive to Blaine as possible.

From behind him, there was the creaking of floorboards. Frowning to himself, he slowly turned to see if Blaine had just snuck into his room again – no one was there. Slowly, Kurt took a few steps towards his bed, guessing that the creaking was coming from underneath there. He tilted his head, trying to look for the shadow of someone...

A hand came out of nowhere and latched onto his ankle. He screamed out as the person emerged, and saw that it was Becky. "Trick'R'Treat!" She shouted at him, laughing. "Smell my feet, give me something good to eat!"

"Becky?!" Kurt panted, still terrified from the incident.

"I want to be a pretty girl," Becky stated, pulling herself up on the bed post and taking a step towards him. "For Halloween."

"You want what?" Kurt asked in disbelief.

Becky nodded in earnest. "Make me a pretty girl...like you're a pretty boy, Kurt."

Honestly, Kurt wasn't sure what the hell he was meant to do to make her a 'pretty girl', but he agreed to try. He sat the other teenager down on his bed and started to go through his drawers; he, admittedly, had some make-up, but it was mainly for dressing up for occasions such as Halloween. Because of this, he had to quickly sneak over to his Dad and Carole's room to steal – no, borrow – some make-up from his step-mother.

Kurt had put on the radio so that he could hum along as he started to work on Becky's makeover, and stuck his tongue out in concentration. "I'm actually not very good at this," He muttered as he carefully applied some eye shadow to her eyelids, just in case he did it wrong and upset her.

"I don't care," Becky stated, and opened her eyes to try and peer at herself in the mirror. "I like it."

Kurt smiled and moved her head back into place. "Close your eyes again." He started to do some touch-ups on her eye-shadow, blending the colours together so that they were light and pretty. "So, how old are you, Becky?"

"A lady never reveals her age," Becky stated when Kurt started to root through the stolen make-up bag, opening her eyes again. "Is Blaine your boyfriend?"

Kurt stopped looking for what he wanted and looked at her. "Wait, you know Blaine?"

"I talk to him when he comes here," Becky explained. "He likes you, I can tell. He thinks you're a pretty boy." Kurt blushed slightly at the thought and started to spread some rouge on the girl's cheeks. "Are you a virgin?"

"Yes," He scoffed and picked up a hairbrush so that he could brush her hair through. "Why? Aren't you?"

"Hell no!" Kurt smiled in amusement as he started to brush her blonde hair.

"You know, Becky...you can't keep breaking into our house."

"But I like it here!" Becky complained, now turning to glare at the other teenager. "My friends are here."

Kurt was so confused by that admission that he stopped brushing her hair so that he could ponder what she'd said.

Becky took this opportunity to look at herself in the mirror; her mouth fell open. "Wow!" She gaped, starting to smile happily. "Kurt! I look beautiful!"

As she turned to look at him excitedly, Kurt shook her last comment out of his mind; instead, he grinned down at Becky knowingly and continued to pamper her.

* * *

"GODDAMMIT! Come here!"

Becky giggled as she ran through the house and into the kitchen, trying to keep away from Sue and her towel.

"Now, who gave that to your face?!" Sue snarled.

"Kurt!"

Sue growled lowly. "That kid's got another cupcake coming to him, that's what!" Sue threw her towel at Becky weakly. "Now, wash that smut off your face!"

"No!" Becky yelled, getting tears in her eyes. "I wanna be a pretty girl!"

"But you're not a pretty girl, and you know it!" Sue snapped before she could help it; by the time she'd realised what she had said, Becky's face had crumpled up. "Becky..."

Becky didn't listen and darted past Sue, avoiding the older woman's hands, so that she could run away and cry in private.

* * *

Kurt shivered slightly as he walked down the basement steps. "Blaine?" He called out, looking around for the other teenager. "Blaine? You said you wanted to meet at Midnight..." He took a deep breath as he headed to his right. "Come out, come out wherever you are!"

As he turned back around, he found himself face-to-face with someone in a rubber suit. He let out a gasp, and the person put their hands on his mouth to stop his screams from being heard. They shoved Kurt back against the wall, hands still on the boy's mouth. Just as Kurt started to struggle, he heard someone chuckling – _Blaine_ chuckling. He let out a sigh of relief as the shorter teenage boy took his hands away from Kurt's mouth, reaching back to unzip the mask and pull it from his face.

"You asshole!" Kurt breathed out, slapping him lightly on the chest.

"I scared you," Blaine laughed, throwing the mask to the ground and taking a step closer to the blue-eyed teenager.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "No you didn't," He eyed Blaine from head-to-toes. "Where did you even get this thing? My dad threw it out."

Blaine grinned, closing in so that their faces were only a few centimetres apart. "Finders keepers," He muttered, and pressed his lips against Kurt's. After a few seconds of initial shock, Kurt started to kiss back in earnest, enjoying kissing this boy. When they pulled away, breathing heavily, Blaine just said, "Really, I didn't scare you?"

Kurt smirked slightly, feeling much more confident after kissing Blaine. "I said no."

The two just locked eyes for a moment. "I bet I can."

* * *

Once he'd removed the rubber suit, Blaine lit a candle and looked up at his boyfriend. "You have to put your fingers on the other side."

Kurt snorted slightly from his position on the steps. "I don't believe that those boards work."

"Will's gonna answer all your questions," Blaine remarked loudly, trying to be scary. He placed the needed objects in front of him on the board. "He used to live here."

Kurt stood up and walked over to sit opposite Blaine, deciding to play along with his game. "Is _Will_ going to tell me what happened to those jerks who tried to kill us?" He paused. "What did you do to them?"

"I told you," Blaine answered serenely. "I didn't do anything. I had some help." He reached out his hand for Kurt's and placed it on the Ouija board.

Kurt looked down at the board and back up at the shorter boy. "What's in this basement? I want the truth."

"What I'm about to tell you might scare you," Blaine muttered menacingly. "_To death_."

The tall boy snorted. "I can take it."

Blaine took a deep breath and started his story. "Doctor Will Schuester built this house. And here, in this basement, is where he worked...Will was a doctor to the stars. But he was also a drug addict."

_Will eyed the girl in front of him briefly, picking up his cloth of ether and smelling it before he started his work._

"But his wife, Terri, wasn't about to let that get in the way of her lifestyle. So she set up a little, secret side business; he would take care of girls who didn't wanna be in trouble anymore."

_The girl panted harshly, going quite pale as she tried to block out what was happening._

"This went on and on, until one day, a girl couldn't keep the secret to herself...and she told her boyfriend what happened."

_The phone rang out, and Terri picked it up. "Schuester residence," She murmured down the phone tiredly. "Whoever this is, it's past ten, you shouldn't be calling at this hour."_

"_An eye for an eye..." A voice growled out._

_Terri's eyebrows furrowed._ _"Who is this?"_

"_...A tooth for a tooth..."_

_Terri shook her head to herself. "I won't tolerate this nonsense any longer unless you-" She was cut off by the dial tone. She quickly put the phone back down on the receiver and turned to her husband, who was nursing a drink. "Will...I've just had the most peculiar conversation..."_

_And then it hit her. _

_She quickly ran from the room, ignoring her husband's odd look, and ran up the stairs to her baby's room. When she got there, the windows were wide open, and the baby's crib empty. "Will..." She murmured, feeling as though she was about to faint. "Oh my God...WILL!"_

Blaine paused for dramatic effect, staring straight at his boyfriend with a ghostly expression. "The boyfriend wanted revenge. So he kidnapped Will and Terri's baby. Terrified, the Doctor and his wife waited for the ransom demands."

Kurt didn't speak, instead listening to Blaine's tale.

"_This is your fault, Will!" Terri called out again, pouring herself a tall glass of wine. Just as she put the bottle down, there was a knock at the door, and her head snapped up to see what was going on. _

_Will walked up to the door to open it, shoes clicking on the floor. "What is the meaning of this?" He snapped – he stopped when he saw that he was faced with two policemen, one of whom was holding a box._

_The second policeman flipped the lid off the box and stepped back, obviously wanting Will to look for himself. Frowning, Will reached in and pulled out whatever was inside; a jar. As he got a good look at it, Terri had creeped up behind him, curious as to what was going on. "Will?"_

_Will had frozen, horrified by what he'd found. He stepped back in horror, trying to get away from it. _

"_Will?" Terri repeated, walking forwards to look at the jars. "What is it, Will?"_

_The second policeman rushed forwards to hold her back. "No, madam! There's no need for you to see this!"_

"Driven insane by grief, the doctor used all of his experience in surgical skills to try and cheat death."

"_Will," Terri called out weakly, arms outstretched with a baby's christening gown draped over them. "I want to bury our son in this, Will."_

_Will didn't look up from his sewing, keeping both eyes trained on his work. _

_Terri stopped in the doorway, and looked around; her face paled as she realised what was going on. "Will?" She started to cry, shoulders shaking as she saw Will hold up a tiny hand. "What are you doing?" He didn't respond, instead pushing the needle through the skin at the bottom of the hand and connecting it to a tiny arm. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO OUR BABY?!" _

"What he'd created was un-Godly," Blaine stated, now standing above Kurt. "And monstrous. And even after their tragic end, that thing remained down here...to this day."

Kurt's mouth had fallen open. "Oh my God," He muttered, and the shorter boy smirked. "That is the biggest load of crap I've ever heard!" Blaine frowned. "Forget it. Forget I said anything." He stood up and started to walk past Blaine. "And I'm tired that we keep hanging out in this dark dank place. Why can't we go somewhere? You know...on a real date?"

Blaine, who had been staring at the wall opposite, jumped into action. "Fine," He said quickly, and reached out to clasp Kurt's hands. "Tomorrow night, we'll go out." Kurt smiled widely, clearly pleased with this arrangement. From upstairs, they heard footsteps. "You know, your father doesn't really want me hanging around this house without his permission..."

"Come on," Kurt prompted, tugging at Blaine's hand and pulling him away. "I'll be the look-out."

When they'd gone, the candles flickered out.

* * *

True to his word, Burt arranged to meet up with Blaine the day after. He'd sent Blaine off to go and grab them some coffees, and then sat on a bench to watch the children run around in their costumes.

"Wow," Blaine commented, coming back with their coffees in his hands. "There's so many different flavours." He sat down and handed a coffee to the older man. "It's freaky, I dunno half of them."

"What did I say?" Some woman walking past scolded her child, frowning at him. "No eating them until we inspect them at home!"

Burt and Blaine both looked around awkwardly; across the street, Burt spotted a tiny little boy with brunette hair chatting animatedly to his mother. Blaine saw and smiled too. "That kid reminds you of Kurt, doesn't he?" Burt grinned a little and nodded.

"_Kurt...come on, little man!" Elizabeth called, waiting for him to come out of his room and show them his costume. _

_Seconds later, Kurt stepped outside; he was wearing his little Ariel wig and hopped out happily in his little tail. "How do I look?"_

_Both of the adults gave noises of appreciation. "You look amazing, kiddo," Burt grinned, giving him the thumbs up; he wasn't quite used to his son cross-dressing for Halloween, but if it made his little boy happy, then he didn't care._

"He had to be cute," Burt muttered, completely forgetting about the teenager sitting opposite. "My brave little boy. Just like his Mom, you know? Smart, and...adorable. No need to be like all the other little boys and fit in the crowd." He tiredly rubbed his temples and looked up at Blaine. "The thing was...I was a punk-ass kid too. Kinda like you, Blaine. I didn't do great in school, and didn't expect a lot of myself. Then again, no one else did either. A total shock to everyone when I actually graduated – didn't think I'd do well enough."

Blaine nodded, greatly intrigued as seeing his boyfriend's dad so...so different.

"But somehow," Burt continued, disbelief etched on his face. "I was given this...amazing gift of a family; Kurt's mother was beautiful and smart, and I dunno what she ever saw in me. And then Kurt came along and..." He trailed off, sighing and putting his head in his hands.

Blaine furrowed his eyebrows slightly. "Hey," He tried, and put his hand out to touch the older man's arm. "It's gonna be okay, Mister Hummel."

"I'm sorry," Burt apologised immediately, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes; Blaine hadn't even realised that he'd been crying. "I'm sorry, Blaine."

* * *

"Becky!"

Becky didn't answer, and just sat up on the bed.

"Becky?" Sue opened the door and walked into her bedroom, holding a shopping bag. Becky looked away when Sue looked at her, and the older woman's shoulders slumped. "Come on, Becky! Where's your costume?"

"I'm not going this year," Becky stated, not looking at the tall woman. "I'm too old."

"It's Halloween. Everyone gets a chance to be someone else," Sue stated, taking a few steps forwards and sitting down on the bed. The teenager looked up, and Sue gave her a knowing smile. "I thought you wanted to be a pretty girl."

Becky slowly started to smile as Sue held up the bag she was holding; the woman reached in and pulled out a mask with a wig attached, extending her arm to Becky so that she could take it.

"Ta-da," Sue murmured, smiling at the wide grin on her daughter's face. "Now you don't even have to worry about make-up." She tickled at Becky's face. "Let me see that gorgeous smile of yours..."

Becky laughed, and Sue just grinned even more.

"Come on," She decided, standing up and pulling Becky along with her. "Let's see if I've got any clothes that'll fit you...maybe one of the maternity dresses in the attic."

* * *

Hiram hummed to himself lightly as he checked that all of the decorations were in place for that evening; he needed everything to be perfect, the costumes, the decorations...everything.

"What is that racket?" He heard Carole ask from behind of him.

"Spooky sounds!" Hiram said in a loud and booming voice, turning around to make sure that her costume was perfect. His smile disappeared quickly. "Really?"

Carole looked down at herself; it wasn't as if any cleavage was showing, and her baby bump hadn't even started to form yet. "What?"

"Let's see," Hiram commented critically. "The first impression anyone's going to have - before they ever experience my meticulously planted candy scare station - is of _you_ going to the front door in _that_; some sort of witch outfit...Ugh!"

To make matters even worse, Burt had come down the stairs dressed in his vampire costume at that moment, and stopped when he noticed the argument that was going on.

"But never fear," Hiram joked sarcastically. "Count Dracula's here to really add some class."

Burt raised an eyebrow at him. "What's the matter?"

Carole looked between the two of them, just as confused. "I don't think he likes our costumes."

As she stalked off to check on the apple-bobbing station, Hiram sighed. "Well, there's nothing that can be done about it now – the doorbell's going to be ringing, and we still have to decorate the bobbing station properly."

"What do you think I'm doing?" Carole snapped, and he spun to look at the barrel of water and apples.

He froze up completely.

"What the Hell is this?" He spat, not moving.

From behind him, LeRoy appeared. "Hiram, please..."

"Gala apples," Hiram stated, leaning forwards to look properly. "We specifically talked about Granny Smiths."

Burt snorted. "They didn't have any of those in the market."

"Then you drive out of town to look," Hiram snarled, glaring at him and taking a menacing step closer. "Where the Hell is the effort?"

Burt and Carole shared a look. "I think you're overreacting a little bit," Carole said, frowning at him.

"Why? Because I'm the only one who gives a shit?!" There was a long silence before he spoke again, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "I think you and your family should just leave."

"You think _we_ should leave _our_ house?" Carole asked, outraged at such a thing.

Hiram and LeRoy both glared at the other couple. "It's. Not. Your. House. We know it, you know it, and the house knows it. Frankly, you don't deserve it."

"Get out!" Burt snarled, getting angry now.

"Just leave!" Carole agreed.

LeRoy snorted. "We are not leaving this house-"

This was when Carole lost it; she straightened up and yelled at them, "GET OUT! GET OUT NOW!", moving forwards and knocking the decorations over.

From the corner of Hiram's eye, he spotted a figure in a rubber suit watching what was going on. "You shouldn't have to watch this," LeRoy murmured quietly, and Hiram willingly let his partner lead him away.

Once they had gone, there was an awkward silence. Burt just stared at his wife shocked at her outburst. "Are you okay?"

She just nodded, breathing harshly.

"Well," He mumbled, scratching his head and looking utterly ridiculous in his costume. "You shouldn't really be stressing...because of the bab-"

Before he could finish his sentence, Carole had doubled over in pain. "Oh God."

"What?" He asked, panicking. "What is it?"

She shook her head in disbelief. "It...It feels like the baby's kicking..."

"Kicking? Carole, it's only eight weeks old!"

She didn't respond, instead clutching at her stomach. Making a quick decision, he started manoeuvre her towards the front door by her shoulders. "Come on, we gotta get you to the hospital."

"What's going on?" Finn asked, coming from upstairs. "I heard yelling and crashing...woah, Mom! Are you alright?"

"Does she look alright?" Burt snapped, and Finn paled quite a lot. "Look, you and your brother just stay here and don't answer the door-"

"No way!" Finn argued just as Kurt came down the stairs too. "I wanna come with – it's my Mom, and my baby brother or sister in there!"

"And what do you mean, don't answer the door?" Kurt asked, having caught the last ten seconds of the conversation. "It's Halloween!"

"Look, let me come!" Finn pleaded, ignoring that his mother was obviously in pain. "I don't like being left home alone-"

Burt sighed. "Fine, fine. You get her to the car!" Finn nodded, and started to help his mother out the door. Burt turned to his son. "Kurt, you stay here until we get back, alright?"

Kurt blinked, not a hundred percent sure about what was happening. "O-Okay...text me to say what's going on, alright?"

* * *

To try and ease off the unease he was feeling at being home alone, Kurt had retreated back to his bedroom and put his earphones in as he listened to his iPod. He'd left a dish full of candy for any Trick'R'Treaters to have, and wasn't planning on being disturbed.

Outside, Becky had dressed up with her mask and one of the dresses that Sue had in the attic. She'd been ringing on the doorbell for a couple of minutes, wanting Kurt to see how pretty she looked. "Trick-Or-Treat!" She called through the door.

A group of tall and attractive teenage girls dressed as a group of sexy zombies walked up to the house and took a handful of candy each to put in their buckets. They looked at Becky and started to laugh. "Ha! It says take one," The leader pointed out, smirking at her. "Can't you read?"

Becky blinked. "I'm a pretty girl! I want Kurt to see!"

The girls looked at each other and giggled. "Short bust," A second one teased, and the group turned away to go to the next house.

Becky started to walk after them, clearly wanting to be a part of their group. "Hey!" She called, hoping that they'd stop. When they didn't, she started to jog towards them. "Wait for me!"

She didn't look as she ran out into the road; she didn't hear the car coming.

As the group turned to look at her, a car raced down the road and hit her straight on, knocking her down and running over her. The driver didn't stop or turn back.

As Becky lay there, not dead yet but dying slowly, people started to scream as they realised what they had just seen.

* * *

"No, no!" A nurse pleaded, pulling her colleague away from what appeared to be a man's bloody face. "That's a mask! No, he broke his leg!"

Honestly, Burt hated hospitals; even more so on Halloween, because hospitals were just full of people who'd had too much fun and injured themselves.

"It's gonna be okay, Mom," Finn repeated for what seemed like the hundredth time. "It's gonna be okay."

"Sorry to keep you waiting," A round-faced nurse apologised, smiling at them as she drew the privacy partition and sat down. "Are you presently feeling any pain in the abdominal area?"

"I just feel really sick," Carole admitted, trying not to wince when the nurse lifted her dress so that she could get to her stomach. "I haven't been feeling any of the kicking since we left home a half an hour ago."

"Well, I'm sure it's not kicks that you're feeling," The nurse said reassuringly, starting to squirt gel onto her stomach. "After all, the baby's only the size of a kidney bean at eight weeks..."

Carole bit her lip. "I know. That's why I'm worried; I think that there's something wrong with this baby."

"Well, I'm sure it's just gas, but we'll take a look and make sure that everything is perfect."

Burt and Finn looked at each other; Burt reached out to clasp his wife's hand, and Finn put a hand on her shoulder reassuringly, starting his "it's gonna be okay" mantra again under his breath.

The nurse stared at the screen, trying to see what was going on in the picture. She frowned at them slightly. "And you're sure about the timeline?"

"Yeah," Burt muttered confidently. "Eight weeks."

"Well, the baby seems a little bigger," The nurse reported, going back to looking at the screen. "Okay, here we go..."

There was a very long silence that hung in the air as she gazed at the screen; the other three looked around at each other nervously.

And then the nurse collapsed backwards.

Carole shot upwards, eyes widening in horror. "Oh my God!"

Finn quickly moved, crouching to get a look at the nurse. "She's knocked out cold."

Burt rolled his eyes slightly. "Thanks, Finn, we didn't quite realise. I'm gonna go and get some help."

* * *

Soon, the ambulances had started to turn up. A crowd had gathered to watch in horror as medics pulled out a folded up gurney from the vehicle.

Sue, who had see the flashing lights from her bedroom and feared the worst immediately, pushed through the crowd and found herself faced with a mother's worst nightmare. "Oh…sweet Jesus." Tears started to pool in her eyes and she put a hand to her mouth as if trying not to vomit. She got onto her knees besides Becky, checking for a pulse just as an EMT did the same thing. "What happened?"

"She just walked into the street," A young woman said helplessly, tear track glistening on her cheeks.

"It was a hit and run," A cop informed Sue, giving her a pitying look.

Sue let out a choking noise as she looked down at her daughter. "Is she d-dead?"

"We're doing everything we can, m'am," The medic opposite said, getting ready to lift Becky's body.

Sue shook her head. "No! We've gotta get her to the lawn! Over there, while she's still with us." As she struggled to reason with the EMTs, the cops and bystanders watched with tears in their eyes, none of them quite understanding why Sue had made her request. "IF YOU CAN'T HELP ME," Sue yelled, pushing them away from her and silencing the men. "THEN GET OUT OF THE WAY!"

With that, she started to drag Becky's body away from the crowd, half-crying-half-yelling in desperation. "Come on, Becks…we gotta get you home! W-With all your friends! J-Just hold on a little longer…"

The EMTs looked around at each other, at a loss for words.

"Just…Just a little further!" Sue pleaded, nearly on the grounds of Murder House. "Just a few more feet-" Sue collapsed on the grass by the house, out of breath. Acting quickly, she got onto her knees besides Becky to check that she still had a pulse…

She didn't.

"No…" Sue whispered, a rebellious tear streaking down her cheek. "Becky…" She leaned down and rested her head on Becky's for a moment, dry sobs starting to take over her body.

* * *

Santana tried not to squirm as she walked through the hallways of the nursing home, the stench already overwhelming her nostrils. As she walked to her mother's room, she passed an elderly man with a drip in his arm. Looking down, Santana saw that a tube was poking out from under his trouser leg, leaving a trail of urine on the floor. Taking a deep breath, she walked a little faster.

When she found her mother's room, she felt a pang in her heart; the older woman was lying in bed, weak, with a machine attached to help her breathe. Santana blinked the tears out of her eyes and sat down by her bedside, running a hand over the other woman's. "Oh, mother…you always had the most beautiful hands."

Now they were wrinkled with age, veins prominent along them and her arms. "What have they done to you?" Santana whispered to herself in horror as her eyes fell on her mother's face. She reached her free hand to gently touch it. "This is all my fault…I-I wasn't there for you…" Unable to hold it in, her face crumpled up as she tried to keep back the tears. "I-I'm so s-s-sorry!"

That was when she made her decision; she eyed the machine pumping oxygen into her mother's body, and how ancient her mother had become. Santana looked around quickly, not wanting to be caught. When she saw that the coast was clear, she gently put her mother's hand down onto the bed again and stood up so that she could see what she was doing. Hands shaking, the Latina maid slowly touched the plastic hooked into the old woman's mouth, and gently pulled it out. Oxygen started to whoosh out, and Santana collapsed backwards again, unable to stand it.

The bleeping heart monitor briefly quickened…seconds later, it went flat. Santana bit her lip, trying not to cry again as she moved to sit on the bed next to the older woman's body, taking her hands again.

"Come with me, baby" She heard her mother plead from behind her, and Santana lost it.

"I want to," She cried, tears splashing down her cheeks. "I want to, mother, but I can't! I-I c-c-c-can't!"

When she turned to face her mother's ghost, she was gone.

* * *

Kurt had been reading when the doorbell went off. He'd turned his music off a while ago, and was now trying to relax a little more. His eyes flickered to the doorway of his bedroom briefly, wondering whether or not he should answer it.

_What if it's Dad and Carole? _He asked himself as the bell went off again. Sighing to himself nervously, he rolled off his bed and stood up. He couldn't help but feel terrified that the home invaders had come back, and he slowly made his way out of his bedroom and downstairs.

As Kurt descended the stairs, that was when he heard the yelling. "GODDAMIT, I WANT MY MONEY, FINN HUDSON!" Kurt blinked as the person continued to pound on the door, and slowly walked up to the door. "I WANT MY THOUSAND DOLLARS!"

Kurt quietly peeped through the peep-hole, curious as to what was going on. Standing outside there was a tall teenage boy with a Mohawk; he was also scarred badly on one side, and didn't look too pleased.

"FINN HUDSON!" The guy yelled, ringing the doorbell again. "Dude, open the fuckin' door! I'm not leavin' here until I have my thousand dollars! SCREW YOU! YOU OWE ME!"

From behind him, a group of small children had come running up to the door.

"Oh! Here…take one…AND GO!"

Kurt felt goose-bumps on the back of his neck rise as the children screamed, running away. Making a quick decision, he backed away from the door and pulled his phone out of his back pocket. He quickly dialled his father's mobile number, terrified.

* * *

"Hey, Kurt," Burt said, putting the phone to his ear. "Everything o-"

"Dad," He heard Kurt interrupt. "There's some scarred guy at the door asking about money."

"Money?"

"Yeah…is he a friend of Finn's?"

Burt coughed. "Let me ask." He leaned forwards, looking at his step-son to do the same. Finn blinked. "Were you having friends over tonight? There's a guy at the house who keeps asking about money."

Finn paled considerably. "N-No."

Burt didn't believe him, but put the phone back to his ear. "Kurt, just keep the door locked. We'll be home soon…just keep the door locked."

* * *

Kurt nodded to himself and hung up the call.

"Ooohhh…" The person on the other side of the door said quietly. "Is that your father? Or your brother?" He banged on the door again. "OPEN UP!"

The doorbell rang. It rang again. And again.

On the fourth ring, Kurt didn't see the rubber man walk to stand in the doorway, right behind him.

The figure tilted his head and took a small step forwards.

* * *

Burt had driven home at top speed. He didn't even bother shutting his car door as he jumped out; to his dismay, the candy that they'd left out was all over the floor, and no one was there ringing the doorbell. Finn seemed relieved, but the three of them immediately became concerned for Kurt's well-being.

"KURT!" Burt yelled, shoving the door open. Carole followed behind him, distraught and disorientated. "Kurt! Where are you?!"

"He probably can't hear over the alarm," Carole guessed, heading to go upstairs. Finn quickly rushed to silence the house alarm, typing in the code quickly. "Kurt?! Sweetie?"

"Kurt!" Finn called, heading for the kitchen. "Kurt, dude! This isn't funny!"

Carole bit her lip as she scanned his bedroom. "Burt, he's not here!"

Burt stiffened up as he searched the Living Room. "S-Someone call his cellphone!"

At that moment, there was a knock at the door. Thinking it was Puck, Finn hurriedly yelled an "I'LL GET IT!" and jogged to open the door.

When he yanked it open, however, he found himself face-to-face with none other than Quinn Fabray. She gave him small smirk, her hair messy and eyes dark.

Finn slammed the door shut in her face.

**Reviews greatly appreciated - no, really, I have no clue about what I'm gonna do for the next chapter.**


	5. Halloween: Part 2

Halloween: Part 2

As the doorbell had continued to ring, Kurt didn't notice the rubber man coming up from behind him. It was only a second later that he saw something from the corner of his eye-

He spun around, only to find that he was alone.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Kurt decided to retreat back to his bedroom. The doorbells had stopped, but Kurt decided not to check if the scarred guy was still there. By this point, he was so done with all the scares he and his family had been getting. He quietly shut the door and then leaned against his bedpost, putting his head in his hands.

He didn't notice a muddy hand snaking its way out from underneath his bed, reaching for his ankle to grab hold of.

A tap sounded, as if a stone hitting the window. Kurt looked up, and moved to look out the window.

The hand missed his ankle and retreated back underneath the bed.

Kurt peered out the window cautiously, only to see his boyfriend standing on the grass outside. He hurriedly opened his window and stuck his head outside. Blaine grinned up at him, and waved his hand for the taller teenager to come to him. "Basement!" He mouthed.

* * *

Kurt had hurriedly made his way downstairs, pulling on a jacket and fixing his hair. "Blaine?"

Blaine came through the basement door, grinning happily. "Hey!"

Kurt smiled and breathed out; Blaine pulled him into a hug, which the taller teenager gratefully returned. "Uh…it's just been insane here…first the cops were outside, and then there was some freaky guy at the door screaming about money…"

Blaine rubbed circles into his back, breathing in his scent. "It's alright…stuff like that happens on Halloween." Kurt pulled away so that they were looking at each other. "Just assholes…we're fine now. After all, I'm here."

The two smiled at each other. "Yeah," Kurt murmured, eyes shining. "I feel safer now."

The hazel-eyed teen took a step back, and it was only then that Kurt realised that he had something behind his back - a rose…a black rose. "I painted it black," Blaine informed him, handing it to his boyfriend. "I know that you think red roses are a cliché."

Kurt was, honestly, at a loss for words. "You know, you're the first boy to give me a flower."

Blaine chuckled slightly, and Kurt felt his heart speed up slightly.

"Thank you," He said slowly, trying to hide his smile as he looked at the flower in his hand. "I love it, Blaine."

"Are you ready to go on our date?"

"Yeah."

Blaine reached out his hand for Kurt to take; when his boyfriend did so, he lead him outside.

* * *

Finn breathed out once the door had slammed shut. Both his Mom and Burt stared at him, but before either could scold him, Carole's cell went off, and she raced to answer it. "Hello? Kurt? Where are you?"

"I'm just hanging with friends," He said from down the phone apologetically. As he said this, he looked at his boyfriend, who was just playing around behind him.

"Kurt, your father told you not to leave!" Carole snapped, half-relieved and half-angry.

Kurt winced slightly. "I know. I'm sorry, really…I should have called you earlier." He held his breath. "Is this the part where you make me come home?"

Carole blinked to herself and sighed; although she was angry, it _was_ Halloween after all, and he _was_ a teenager. "Are you safe?"

"I swear."

"And you're having fun?" She checked.

Kurt nodded to himself. "Yeah, of course."

"Well…what happened with the guy who was banging on the door?"

"It was just a Halloween prank," Kurt muttered dismissively. From behind him, Blaine came running up and started to nuzzle into his neck. "They went away."

Carole gave in. "Kurt, be home in an hour."

"I will," Kurt agreed, squirming away from his boyfriend's wet lips. "Bye." As he hung up, pulling away from Blaine, the shorter boy grinned.

"Who was that?"

"My step-mom."

Blaine nodded and leaned in to kiss Kurt again, pushing him backwards on the sand. Kurt's hand reached up to cup his boyfriends cheek, and he deepened the kiss.

This hour was going to be too short.

* * *

Finn was, understandably, angry. That was why he had stormed away from the front door, down the hall and into the kitchen; he'd headed straight for the knife block and pulled one out.

As the blade hit the light, his mother walked in. "Finn, I've just spoken to Kurt…he's out with friends…" She stopped when she saw her son with the knife. "What're you doing with that knife?"

Finn blinked and looked at the knife. "Well…I'm sick of those kids ruining our house…I don't ruin that crazy lady next door's house, so why should other people get away with doing it to ours?" He glared down at the floor. "They destroyed those pumpkins we made…we worked real hard on it…"

Carole just stared at him with surprise. "So you're going to kill them?"

Finn blinked again and slowly shook his head. "No…I'll start cleaning outside…you rest, Mom."

"Alright," Carole said slowly. "Clearly we've all had a long day…I think I _will_ go and relax, maybe take a bath." She paused before she made to leave. "Finn, please don't do anything stupid. Please."

* * *

Finn, of course, ignored his mother's pleading. He stormed outside, grabbing a shovel from next to the back door, and started to make his way around the yard, looking for the teenager with a Mohawk.

From behind him, as if out of thin air, Puck appeared. "Can I have my money now?" He asked, grinning.

Finn spun around, slamming the shovel in his hand against Puck's face, knocking him backwards. The taller teen threw his shovel to the ground and strode towards Puck, grabbing him and shoving him across the yard. Puck hit the lattice on the gazebo and collapsed, blood starting to drip from his nostrils.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Finn yelled, throwing himself on top of Puck and slapping him across the face. "WHERE IS SHE?""Who?" Puck gasped out, trying to fight back.

"Quinn!" Finn snarled, slamming his fist against the shorter teen's chest hard. "I know that she's out here!"

Puck struggled a little and swung a hit at Finn, making the other teenager dodge away from him. Puck tried to sit up, but Finn was ruthless - he wasn't letting the other teen go so easily. "HELP! SOMEONE-"

"Where the fuck is she?" The tall teen growled, shoving down hard on Puck's chest. "Tell me now!"

"She's under that gazebo!" Puck choked out. "Dude, this is not cool!"

Clearly, this wasn't the answer that Finn wanted. "There's nothing under this damn gazebo! You know that! This was all staged, why?!"

"DUDE! I don't know what you're talking about!"

Finn reared upwards, glaring down at Puck expectantly. "She was at the door ten minutes ago!"

That was when something changed in Puck's face; he stopped struggling, settling on breathing harshly. "What?…Shit!" He leered up at Finn curiously. "Was she pissed?"

"I'M PISSED!" Finn yelled, pulling Puck upwards by the fabric of his shirt. "All of this, dude? For a thousand dollars?! I don't think so…" He shook Puck a little. "What are you two planning at? I'm not gonna be the victim of your…you sick little game! You're in it together, aren't you?!"

Puck chuckled, smirking up at the tall teen. "Wow…you really don't get it, Frankenteen…" Finn let go of Puck, done with him and his ridiculous talk. That was until Puck continued talking just as he stood up. "You know the funny thing about the dead is? They've got nothing left to lose!"

Finn yelled out something unintelligible and shoved Puck down before he could even get up. "I'M NOT FALLING FOR YOUR BULLSHIT! I WANT SOME ANSWERS!" With that, he punched Puck in the face, making him fall backwards.

And the bastard's only response was to roll around on the grass and laugh. "Wow…you don't even know the question…"

Finn punched him again. "WHERE IS SHE?!"

Puck groaned out, his face hidden in the grass. When he rolled around, he was smirking again. "Ha…beats me!"

This earnt him another punch, and then the taller teen stepped backwards, breathing harshly as he tried to calm himself down.

"She could be anywhere," Puck taunted, looking up at the other teen. He lurched forwards, grabbing onto Finn's knees. "But I can help…I could be there to watch your back…you'd need it…" His lips curled upwards, covered in blood. "You thought she was weird and dangerous before?"

"Let me tell you who's dangerous," The taller teen snarled, grabbing Puck by his shoulders and shaking him. "That would be me! You really wanna keep going with this story, Puck? 'CAUSE I'M RIGHT AT THE EDGE!" He threw Puck backwards. "And if I go, I'm taking you with me!"

"Go on!" Puck breathed. "Kill me! It would be a luxury…that way, I could come back and haunt you!"

Finn had had enough of this; he reached behind him and grabbed his shovel, raising it above his head as he wondered whether or not to do it. "You see her," He growled, shoulders shaking slightly. "You tell her that we're done. I'm not playing your games, Puck, so if you come back here, I'll kill you."

With that, he slammed the shovel onto the ground next to Puck's head, and dropped it against the other teen's body.

As he started to go back inside, he heard Puck say, "Promises, promises". Finn ignored it.

* * *

The doorbell rang. Burt looked up from where he was running the bath for his wife, and Carole stood up from her seat on the toilet. "I'll get it," She mumbled, hoping that it wouldn't be anyone bad.

Once she'd gone down the stairs, she peeked through the peep-hole, checking. Shoulders slumping with relief, she opened the door to see Luke, the security guy. "Hi," She greeted in relief.

"Hey," He greeted back, giving her a brief smile. "I'm sorry to bother you, but your alarm was triggered a while ago…is everything okay here?"

"Oh," Carole nodded. "Yeah. My step-son went out a little while ago, so I bet he set it off."

"Oh, okay," Luke unfolded his arms, looking slightly relieved before he looked around the front porch. "So, who did this to your pumpkin patch?"

Carole looked out the front briefly before shaking her head. "I don't know. It looks like punk-ass kids to me."

Luke chuckled slightly. "Well, if you catch them doing anymore mischief, you send them my way."

"Will do," Carole agreed, giving him a bright smile. "And thank you so much for responding so quickly. I must admit, since we hired you, I feel…"

"Safer," Luke finished, grinning largely. Carole nodded. "Good…"

"Hey, Carole, I ran the…" Burt stopped when he saw what was going on. "Oh. Am I interrupting or-?"

"No, I was just leaving," Luke excused, giving the older man a small smile and taking a step backwards.

"Well, thank you," Carole said, going to shut the door behind him.

Burt blinked at her. "Who the Hell is that?"

"Luke," She told him simply. "He's our security guy. Anyway, you said something about the bath?"

* * *

The fireplace blazed merrily to the sound of waves crashing on the shores of the beach, a warm glow emitted to the people who had started it. Kurt was lying underneath Blaine, his lips exploring the shorter boy's mouth and his hands roaming against his toned back. Blaine groaned into his boyfriend's mouth, pulling away to get some air.

"I want to," Kurt mumbled, one of his hands travelling south to grab at Blaine's crotch.

Blaine pulled away in protest just as Kurt realised that his boyfriend was completely soft.

Kurt's head thumped back into the sand. "Sorry. I-I thought…"

"I just…" Blaine took a deep breath. "I wanna be with you so bad, Kurt, I swear. And that's never happened to me before…with a guy."

Kurt blinked. "You're not gay?"

Blaine tried not to smile. "No, I am! I just…" Unable to finish his sentence, he rolled off of Kurt's body so that he was sitting on the sand. Kurt shuffled to sit up too. "Maybe…I don't know."

Kurt sat up even straighter. "I think…I think maybe I should go, Blaine."

As he sat up, Blaine reached a hand up to stop him. "No, Kurt! Please!" He gave Kurt his puppy-eyes. "I'm not ready to go…and I need you with me. Please, Kurt."

Kurt hesitated slightly before nodding, and he sat down next to his boyfriend again. As the wind started to pick up, the two teenagers huddled closer to each other, Kurt's head resting on Blaine's shoulder, and Blaine's hand resting on Kurt's back.

Blaine took a deep breath before talking. "I used to come here….when the world closed in and got so small I couldn't breathe…" He bit his lip in thought. "I'd look out at the ocean and just thing… 'Dude, high school counts for nothing'…I mean, some of the greatest performers and artists dropped out of high school, and they did fine." He gave a sad smile, tears in his eyes. "I hated high school - most gay teenagers do. So I come here and just look at this vast limitless expanse and it's like…'that's your life, man…you can do anything with your life, be anything'." He looked at Kurt who was listening intently. "Screw high school. It's just…a blip in your timeline, don't get stuck there…"

Kurt stared back at him, his heartstrings tugging. Sighing, he buried his head back into the crook of his boyfriend's shoulder, watching the ocean peacefully.

Until he heard the cracking of someone stepping on a stick.

Kurt looked away from the ocean and over his shoulder; a group of teenagers were coming over the sand dune. "Blaine," He muttered, trying not to panic. "There's someone here."

Blaine frowned as the group approached them, confused. The group consisted of five people; a cheerleader, a jock, an Asian Goth, someone who looked very much like a stoner, and a nerdy guy wearing glasses. All of them had what looked like bullet wounds in various places on their bodies. Kurt snorted to himself. "Nice costumes…what are you, the Dead Breakfast Club?"

"You know," Blaine started, looking around at the five as they surrounded him and Kurt. "There's a lot of beach, guys."

"Good job, Blaine," The jock - with a fake bullet shot between his eyes - muttered, looking down at the short teenager with distaste. "You finally came out of hiding. We've been waiting for years for you to show your face, but you like Mommy's little safe house, don't you?"

Blaine stared around at them all, confused. "I don't know you."

The black one dressed as a cheerleader - she had a fake wound in her chest - shook her head in disbelief and bent to look at Kurt and Blaine. "You know, I'm actually surprised you have the balls to show your face around here."

The Goth girl, a grisly wound in the side of her head, also bent down. "Yeah…maybe you should have brought a mask."

"Well, I'm not really into Halloween," Blaine smirked.

"But this year's different, right?" The Goth challenged in glee. "You have a date…how cute is that?" At this, she leered at Kurt, whose eyes widened.

"Leave him alone!" Blaine snapped, moving in front of Kurt protectively. He and the Goth stood up, glaring daggers into each other's eyes.

"We don't want her," The jock stated. "We want _you_."

"How about we drown him?" The Goth suggested, smirking at Blaine.

The Jock shook his head. "No…we should shoot him _right between the eyes_." At this, he pointed to the supposedly-fake bullet wound in-between his eyes.

Kurt, having had enough of this, stood up. "Ha Ha," He spat out. "Very funny. Halloween pranks."

"Will someone please waste this bastard?" The Goth snarled out, clearly annoyed.

"Yeah," The stoned guy said; he had a wound in his head too. "Why does he get to have a boyfriend? I never had a girlfriend, why should he get a date?" He turned to the one wearing glasses, whose jaw appeared nearly blown off. "Jacob, do you have a girlfriend?" Jacob shook his head. "Ryder, what about you?"

Ryder shook his head. "Nope. I haven't had sex in a long time."

Blaine shuddered slightly. "Come on, let's go." He put his arm around his boyfriend and bent to pick up the blanket that they'd been sitting on. "Someone really needs to pick up the trash."

As the two walked away, the group stared after them. They weren't finished with Blaine Anderson yet.

Not by a long shot.

* * *

Rachel hummed to herself as she brushed through her hair one last time; she wasn't sure where her dads had gone, so she waiting for her boyfriend in his room until he came back from whatever he was doing.

Finn's phone lit up. Curious, she looked down at it, only to see that someone by the name of 'Quinn' was calling her boyfriend.

Rachel was not usually suspicious or nosey…but she picked up the phone, in case it was important, and answered it. "Hello?"

There was a light laugh from the other end of the phone. "Naughty, Rachel…answering his phone calls…oh well. I can deal with you."

Rachel bristled slightly. "How do you know my name?"

The person - Quinn - laughed again. "Oh, he didn't tell you?" There was a pause. "So he didn't tell you about Lima?"

"I don't know who you are," Rachel said slowly, trying not to get creeped out. "But here's the thing; if you don't leave me or my boyfriend alone, I'll-"

"Ask him about Lima."

Quinn hung up. Frustrated with what was going on, Rachel threw Finn's phone across the room, reaching up to massage her temples and close her eyes.

There was a noise behind her, and the soprano spun around, only to find herself face to face with Finn's mirror.

And then she realised there was something written across it.

_Go on. Ask him about Lima._

* * *

Burt didn't like the security guy. He knew it was ridiculous, seeing as he and Carole had only just gotten married, and this guy was just doing his job…but Burt wasn't comfortable with how often he was around the house, or how friendly he was with Carole. Even worse, she was just as friendly back, and it drove him mad to think about it.

He'd left his wife to her bath, and was just wandering around looking for a snack in the kitchen when Carole ran in, looking terrified. "Is everything alright?" He asked immediately. "Is the baby okay?"

"There's someone in the house," Carole breathed, trying not to panic.

"What, who?"

Carole shook her head. "I don't know! They've been walking around, and then this message appeared in the mirror, and-"

She was cut off by her son walking in, looking rather tired. "What's going on?"

"Someone's in the house," Burt stated, and Finn's eyes widened slightly. "Carole, what did the message say?"

She just shook her head. "Something about Lima…asking somebody about what happened in Lima…I-I don't know what's going on…"

Finn, while not smart, had picked up what was going on, and went pale. "O-Oh…"

Quinn was in the house. Finn didn't know how, but the thought terrified him; would she be mad at him about the baby? About Puck smashing her face with a shovel?

"I'm going to call the police," Burt decided, and Carole just nodded. "This person is gonna have their ass thrown into jail, that's wha-"

"No!" Finn panicked. "Don't call the police…that's overreacting, don't you think?"

"Finn, we're not overreacting!" Carole snapped, stress clearly getting to her.

"QUINN IS JUST CONFUSED!" Finn yelled before he could stop himself. Carole stared at him, her eyes starting to widen, and Burt just looked surprised. Finn suddenly felt as if all the oxygen had left the room. "I mean…she's not going to hurt any of us…"

Burt and Carole shared a look. "Finn, you know this girl?" Carole questioned, not sounding angry but sounding shocked. Burt just leaned against the counter-top; he knew about Quinn from the abortion incident.

He nodded meekly. "Yeah…we, uh…we dated. Look, she's just upset and confused, so…_please_ don't call the police."

Burt sighed, taking a step forwards. "Buddy…I understand that you don't want her to get into trouble-"

"I'll sort her out," The tall teen interrupted. "I promise."

"Alright," The older man gave another heavy sigh and put a hand to his step-son's shoulder. "I honestly don't want a bunch of cops outside this house when we're trying to sell it…so I'll give you a chance to get her out."

"I will," Finn promised. "Just stay here."

* * *

Finn tried not to breathe too heavily as he walked down the basement steps - despite the fact he was assured there wasn't an axe-wielding murderer down here, he still felt terrified. He just hoped that Quinn wasn't too mad at him - and if she was, then hopefully she wouldn't do anything stupid.

"Quinn?" He called out, trying not to get too scared. He turned to his right and started walking forwards. "Are you down here?" When he saw that she wasn't there, Finn turned around and went in the opposite direction. He peered into a little side room full of shelves before continuing to search the basement. "Quinn? Quinn, this isn't funny!"

"I love it when you say my name."

Finn spun around to look at the blonde, who was looking extremely haggard and tired. She smiled at him dully. "Say it again."

Finn just shook his head and walked towards her. "Quinn…you really have to leave."

Quinn seemed to pay no attention to this, and frowned at him sadly. "Such a mean thing to do…slam the door in my face." She took a few steps toward him. "How could you do that to the mother of your child, Finn?" At this point, they were only a few centimetres apart, and Quinn reached up on her tiptoes to that they were at a near-eye level. "You remember it, right?"

"Quinn," Finn tried, pushing her away weakly. "You can't stalk me like this…you and that psycho with the Mohawk!"

"Just kiss me," Quinn breathed, trying to do so. The taller teen pushed against her, trying to get her to move backwards. "I miss your mouth. I miss the way it tastes." She was breathing harshly, as if dying. "I'm aching for you…my tongue's swollen…my lips are rough…"

She stopped and pulled backwards; she started coughing into her hand. To Finn's horror, when she looked up she was holding something bloody and soft in her hand.

"I-I'm rotting from the inside out," She sniffled, on the verge of tears. "W-W-What's happening to me?" Quinn paused, and the atmosphere changed. "Oh, right…" She glared at him, her mood dropping quickly. "A gazebo, Finn?! Not even a decent headstone or burial…BUT A GAZEBO?!" She shoved him backwards, surprising him. "You thought I was gone, so you just thought you could…could throw me away?! For that little brown slut? Just like I didn't matter…like…I NEVER EXISTED?! Is that what you think of women, Finn?!" She snarled. "Like we're just disposable nothings that you can have your way with?!"

"STOP SCREWING WITH ME!" Finn yelled, unable to take it anymore. Quinn stopped shouting, and just stared at him. "I was scared, okay? You try having a dead body on your front lawn!" Suddenly, Quinn gave him a smile, showing off the blood on her teeth. "What is this? What do you want?"

Quinn cupped his face, eyes alive suddenly. "I want your little girlfriend to know the truth about you…for your family to know how you dumped me when I was pregnant…"

"Get off me!" Finn pushed her away, and she just smiled widely again. "You're sick, Quinn. You need help…professional help-"

And then he fell forwards; Puck had appeared from behind him and slammed a shovel onto the back of the tall teenager's head. Quinn looked at Puck with an unreadable expression. "I…uh…I really owe you an apology," Puck stated, looking awkward. "Like…I'm sorry I killed you." He put his shovel on the floor next to Finn's unconscious body. "It wasn't anything personal-"

"I'll deal with you later," Quinn growled out. "Right now, I have business to take care of." She stalked past Puck, not looking at him.

"Oh!" Puck started, halting her. "Please…let me help." At this, he grinned happily and lifted up a lighter he'd had in his pocket. "I haven't used this in ages."

* * *

The sounds of crashing noises outside didn't bode well. Still, unable to contain her curiosity, Carole peered out the window to see what was going on.

It was Hiram…and he was destroying all of the Halloween decorations in the yard. Muttering swear words under her breath, Carole quickly jogged out into the hallway and yanked the front door open. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"

Hiram turned to face the other adult, panting harshly, and threw his bat on the floor. "I'm redecorating." He pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry, Carole," He spat, clearly not sorry at all. "I really am, but you ruined my Halloween…and now, you have to pay!" He picked up a pumpkin and smashed it down onto the ground.

"STOP IT!" Carole yelled, shocked by his outburst.

"ALL I WANTED…" Hiram shouted, spinning around to glare at her and lifting up his finger. "Was one night with my guy…with my family…Some Halloween fun…_some crafting!_" He picked up a pumpkin and kicked it across the yard. "In the house that I love, but you ruined, and he left! And now he's out at the bars, and he's probably on his fourth unprotected blowjob!"

Carole straightened up, lifting her hands to point at him out of anger. "YOU are a psychopath! I'm calling my security company!"

Hiram finally looked up from his path of destruction; he adjusted his glasses again and took a deep breath. "You don't get it, do you? No one can protect you now…"

He started to move towards Carole, the threat hanging in the air. Carole panicked and made a run to go back inside the house as he followed her. Before Hiram could get through the door, she slammed it in his face and locked it, heart beating rapidly fast as she tried to steady her breathing.

"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!" Hiram yelled, banging his fists against the door. "GET OUT OF MY HOUSE! GET OUT!"

* * *

While Carole had been dealing with Hiram, Quinn had made her way upstairs. The first thing she'd seen was a bathtub full to the rim of hot and heavenly water; she didn't particularly want to walk around all bloody and gross, so she stripped and climbed in, sinking beneath the water in relief.

When she lifted her head out of the water, the first thing she heard was a woman - Finn's mother - calling for her husband. Relaxing slightly, Quinn rested her head back on the tub and shut her eyes in relief.

And then the doorknob started to rattle.

Quinn looked at it, making sure not to move. The doorknob just rattled more, and Quinn looked down at the water. "Burt? Are you in there? Finn?"

At the mention of the tall teenager's name, Quinn blinked and sniffled.

Outside, Carole had heard it; she froze up, quickly realising that this girl - someone her son knew - was in the house in _her_ bath…

She tried to be quiet as she ran to the Master Bedroom and went for the drawers; she found the panic button that Luke had given her, and pressed it.

"Carole?"

Carole blinked and slowly went to peer out of the doorway; her husband was standing there, in the middle of the corridor, looking confused. "Burt? Please tell me you know what's going on-"

Burt beckoned for her to come closer, so she did. "Carole…is it just me or is there a lot of smoke coming out of the bathroom?"

Both of the adults turned to look at the bathroom door; it was still locked, by the looks of it…and surely Quinn…

Burt didn't waste time; he moved forwards and shoved the door open. It wasn't locked, and it flung open to show a huge fire. "HOLY SHIT!" Burt moved to grab the towels that were on fire, and threw them into the bathtub that was now empty. Carole had followed after him, and was currently trying to stomp out the fire with her slippers.

As the two put out the fire, neither of them realised that Quinn had slunk past behind them and through the open door.

* * *

Kurt sighed as Blaine sat himself on his bed; he turned to the shorter boy and folded his arms, wanting answers. "Are you seriously going to act like nothing happened at the beach? I mean…they actually knew you, Blaine-"

"But I don't know them," Blaine interrupted smoothly.

"Then why do they hate you?" Kurt challenged.

The hazel-eyed boy looked down at the floor, at a loss for words. "Kurt…they…they're just…High School assholes. I mean…the world's full of them, it's popular kids who get off of being mean and cruel." He stood up and leaned against the wall, shrugging as if he didn't know. "I thought you of all people understood that, Kurt."

"Blaine," Kurt started. "I can tell that you're freaked out and upset…"

He trailed off because he was interrupted by the sound of a dog barking nearby. The taller teenager looked out of the window quickly, taking a few steps closer to get a look. Blaine did the same, standing next to his boyfriend.

It was them; the Dead Breakfast Club. The five of them were striding across the lawn, over the destroyed Halloween decorations, and heading straight for the house.

"It's them?" Kurt asked in disbelief. "They followed us home?" Blaine took a step back, looking absolutely terrified. "This is ridiculous…" Kurt looked around the room for something to use - he saw a pair of scissors on his desk, and stormed across his room to pick them up.

He'd had enough of this.

* * *

Finn's phone rang again. Rachel gave an annoyed huff, wondering where the Hell he was, and peered at the Caller I.D - of course, it was _her_. Rachel picked up the phone and put it to her ear. "Quinn," She snarled. "What the Hell do you want?"

"Oh, so you didn't hear about my little adventure in the bathroom?"

"I heard…and I think you're completely wrong for doing this to Finn's parents," The brunette stood up, starting to pace her boyfriend's room. "Now, get out of the house - you have no business being here, and I'm sure that the family are going to call the police soon."

There was a silence between them over the phone. "I know where you are, Rachel. Just watch your back."

The line went dead.

* * *

Moments later, the house phone rang out. Carole, getting up tiredly from the bathroom floor she was cleaning, left the room to answer it. "Hello?"

"So you're Finn's mother," A girl's voice said, and Carole realised it was Quinn herself.

"Yes," Carole agreed crisply. "I am. Look, Quinn, I understand how upset you are at the minute, but there's really no reason to do this."

Quinn didn't speak for a few seconds. "I wanted to apologise."

"Yeah, you should," The older woman snapped, unable to help it.

Quinn chuckled from down the phone. "I just thought it would be a shame to let all those lovely bubbles go to waste…"

Carole slowly turned around and looked inside the bathroom; the bath was being drained, and she noticed that a ring was starting to form,

"Oh, I'm sure your maid can deal with the ring."

Carole took a look around the hallway; no one was there, but she wasn't about to let her guard down. "Where are you?"

The phone line went dead.

* * *

Outside the house, the five of them waited; the cheerleader twirled the hair from her high ponytail as she leaned against the handsome jock. The others waited either on the floor or against the wall, occasionally looking around to make sure the one they wanted hadn't snuck out a different way.

The front door opened and slammed shut; the brunette countertenor took a few steps forwards, clearly alone. "Oh, great," The jock - Ryder - groaned. "He sends his little boyfriend out."

"With a pair of scissors," The Asian Goth finished, smirking at Kurt from her perch. "What are you gonna do? Make us some paper dolls?"

"This is private property," Kurt stated, pointing his scissors at the Goth chick. "I have every right to call the cops."

The cheerleader snorted. "Go ahead. Call them. You'll probably need them."

"Screw that," Ryder disagreed, leering at Kurt. "He deserves whatever happens to him."

"Yeah," The Goth agreed tauntingly. "He's like one of those lonely fat people that usually marry guys on Death Row." She leaned closer to him. "You're deeply, deeply disturbed."

Kurt cleared his throat and glared at them. "You guys need to get your disgusting, made-up faces out of here and go home. NOW."

"Home?" The black cheerleader took a step forwards, looking offended. "Where's that? I'm an only child. After what happened, my parents split up, sold the house and moved away, no forwarding address. So I don't have a home, white boy." Done with her speech, she walked past him, looking down at the floor.

Kurt took a deep breath and turned to look at her properly. "Parents suck sometimes. But I can't fix it for you-"

"Can you fix this?" Ryder questioned, pointing to the bullet wound in his head. "Can you give me back my scholarship to Georgia Tech? I'm supposed to be starting as a Quarterback, freshman year."

"She doesn't care," The cheerleader stated, smiling gleefully at the group. "He's in love. He'll do anything for him, including giving him his virginity." Kurt spun to look at her in horror, and she smirked up at him knowingly. "Tonight was the night, right?"

The brunette boy flushed bright red. "I-It's none of your business."

"Stupid fag," The jock spat, unable to hold it in. "He's worse than Blaine is - he thinks what Blaine did to us is okay!"

"What DID he do to you?!" Kurt shouted, getting annoyed by the pitying looks they were giving him.

This seemed to change the mood; the five looked at each other, somewhat surprised that he didn't know. "He doesn't know," The cheerleader stated.

"ABOUT WHAT?!"

Jacob - the one with the glasses - stood up and tried to talk; instead, all that happened was blooding dripping out of the wound in his jaw. He clutched at it, embarrassed. "It's okay," The cheerleader murmured, patting Jacob on the arm as he walked past her.

"How have you not heard about Westfield High?" Ryder asked, suspicion in his voice.

"We just moved here…"

"Pick up a year book, Lady Boy," The Goth spat.

"Or read a newspaper…" The Cheerleader continued.

"We're kind of famous," Ryder finished slyly.

Kurt scoffed in disbelief. "Right. So you're popular, and you're annoyed that I don't know who you are."

"Let's put him down!" Goth girl snarled.

"LEAVE HIM ALONE!"

All six of them turned to face the front door - Blaine was standing there, glaring at the Dead Breakfast Club.

"Finally!" Ryder breathed. "The one we want returns."

As Kurt stormed up the steps to stand next to his boyfriend, the Stoner guy started to speak. "Come on man, we've got some questions."

"Go inside," Blaine ordered to Kurt, not looking at him. "I can handle this."

"I seriously doubt that!" The cheerleader growled, taking a threatening step closer.

"Go inside!" Blaine snarled at his boyfriend, getting worried now.

"No!" Kurt protested. "They want to hurt you, Blaine…"

"Karma's a bitch, Blaine!" Goth Girl snarled.

Blaine took a deep breath. "You know what? You wanna talk to me? Well, let's see how fast you can run!"

Before anyone could do so much as blink, Blaine had taken off, running past the group and down the path. The group of five took after him, Ryder and the Cheerleader leading the group. Kurt stood on the front porch, shocked by everything that had happened.

As soon as all of them had gone, Kurt pulled out his phone from his trouser pockets and dialled 9-1-1. "Hello?" He breathed, panicking. "My boyfriend's in trouble…there's a bunch of kids chasing after him, and I think they're going to kill him!"

Before he could hear a reply, someone came up from behind him and grabbed him. He spun around, only to find himself face-to-face with Sue Sylvester. "Come with me to my house now!" Sue growled lowly.

The teenager struggled. "No! Leave me alone, you crazy old hag!"

"Becky is dead because of you!" Sue snarled, and Kurt dropped his phone out of shock. Taking this moment of weakness, Sue pulled Kurt by his arm and towards her house.

* * *

Carole pressed down on the panic button again - she didn't know why Luke was taking so long to come, and she knew that there was someone in the house this time.

From behind her, she heard someone walk in. She spun around, only to see that it was her husband. "Oh my God…"

"For once, I actually want that security guy here," Burt grumbled, sitting down on the bed and rubbing his head tiredly. "What the Hell's taking him so long?"

Neither of them were aware that Quinn was done terrorising them.

Now it was Rachel's turn.

* * *

Rachel was sure that she'd worn the carpet down from all the pacing she'd been doing; she couldn't help it, and just bit her nails in panic.

The bedroom door creaked as it opened, and Rachel halted - she didn't even need to look to know who it was. "Quinn." She turned to face the blonde, trying not to show that she was kind of creeped out. "What do you even want?!"

Quinn tilted her head. "That you know the truth. Finally…and for once-"

"I'm not interested," Rachel interrupted. "I don't want to listen to anything you have to say."

"How well do you know Finn?" Quinn questioned pityingly. "What do you think he's capable of? Cheating…unless he didn't tell you about that, which he probably didn't." She paused. "What about murder?"

Rachel tensed up, eyes wide. "If you're trying to shock me…or show me how much you know about my boyfriend…then you're going to be disappointed. Leave before I get his mother to call the police."

"Not until you know. Not until you understand - really understand - who it is you're dating." She took a couple of steps closer to the brunette. "It's all I want, Rachel…just for you to know the truth. That's why we have to talk about Lima. About the pregnancy…about everything."

Rachel furrowed her eyebrows out of confusion. "How did you know his mother's pregnant?"

Quinn frowned; this was clearly not what she was expecting. "What?" She looked down at her stomach slowly, shaking slightly. "Oh God…" She clutched her stomach, which was flat underneath the dress she was wearing. "That's what…what I coughed up…what…" She turned away from the shorter girl and leaned against the wall. "It's your choice, he said…_yours_…"

Rachel brought her hands to her mouth, upset and surprised.

"No wonder he was…he was…" Quinn trailed off, and looked at the picture hanging on the wall. As she let out a dry sob, she ripped the picture off the wall and smashed it against the doorframe nearby. She dropped it before bending down and picking up a sharp piece of glass. Slowly, as if in a horror movie, she turned to face Rachel.

"He didn't want to stay with me and my baby," She snarled out, clenching the glass even harder. "He would have preferred you instead!"

She started to move towards Rachel, a malicious glint in her eyes.

* * *

Puck hummed to himself as he spread the petrol all over the furniture, making sure to get every last bit. It sent flashes of memories through his mind, of his father doing the same thing not that long ago…

Hiram entered the room, arms folded as he watched the teenager. When Puck realised he wasn't alone, he looked up at the older man. "What do you think you're doing to my house?" Hiram asked expectantly, picking up an unlit candle and studying it.

Puck dropped his canister and backed into the window curtains. Hiram just shook his head and gave a small smile of glee.

* * *

Finn had been tied up in the basement; of course, he'd also been unconscious all this time, and didn't realise until he opened his eyes for a few seconds. He was falling in and out of consciousness each second, and every time he did see where he was, it was groggy and short-lived.

He groaned out and squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to move his hands, twitching on the dank basement floor.

"You're a disgrace."

Finn looked up and saw someone…a woman of some sort…standing above him.

"Is that all the fight you have left in you?" The lady sneered, looking very upset. "How can you allow that ghoul to terrorise your family? Hold still."

Finn did so, resting his head back on the floor. The lady bent down and started to untie the ropes holding him. "I will not permit another failure in this house," She continued in an almost angry way. Suddenly, the bonds were cut and she was leaning over his ear. "Save those babies."

Finn shut his eyes for a moment - when he opened them, the lady was gone.

* * *

"Quinn, I don't know what the Hell he did to you," Rachel tried - she knew she couldn't exactly be killed again, but no one really wants to be stabbed. "You th-"

"THAT'S THE TROUBLE!" Quinn screamed. "YOU DON'T KNOW! I'm not just some silly cheerleader from High School…I'm a woman, and I matter!"

Rachel took a deep breath. "You're hurt."

Quinn nodded desperately. "Yes! I'm hurt! He hurt me!…And he'll hurt you." She lifted the shard of glass up. "That's why it's better for you if I just put a stop to this…"

She moved forwards quickly, aiming the shard right for Rachel's stomach. Rachel cried out and put a hand on Quinn's shoulder to push her back, the other hand pushing her stomach inwards as if to protect it.

"QUINN!"

Both of the women turned to look at Finn, who had just walked in. His eyes widened out of fright when he saw what was going on. Quinn desperately looked between Finn and Rachel. "ASK HIM ABOUT LIMA, ASK HIM!"

"Tell me about Lima, Finn!" Rachel begged, a tear rolling down her cheek as she struggled.

"TELL HER!" Quinn shrieked, turning her attention to her ex-boyfriend. "TELL HER, FINN!"

Finn stared at Rachel straight in the eyes, looking guilty. "Rach…I…I lied. I-I didn't go to Lima to see some old friends of mine…I went to be with Quinn. She needed me."

Quinn stopped struggling slightly, some peace taking over her features.

"Why?" Rachel prompted, more tears spilling down her face. "Because she was pregnant? Even though you were with me?"

Both of them looked at him expectantly; it didn't escape his notice that the shard of glass was still held to his girlfriend's stomach. "Rachel…I broke up with her when we s-started going out…but then she said she was pregnant…what was I meant to do?!" He looked down at the floor. "There, she knows everything. Put it down."

Quinn gave a small, relieved smile and dropped the glass to the floor.

"Mister Hudson?"

All of them turned to see the security man standing in the doorway with a gun pointed towards Quinn; behind him, Burt and Carole were watching with terrified expressions on their faces. "Yeah," Finn said hoarsely. "That's me."

Luke took a step inside the room. "Your mother activated the panic button…is this the intruder?"

Finn nodded, not able to speak. Quinn just looked around, mascara running down her cheeks; she and Rachel both dropped their arms from each other's shoulders, and Rachel backed away from the blonde so that she could be arrested.

Neither of them looked at Finn.

* * *

Sue chuckled slightly as she stirred her coffee. "She wanted to be a pretty girl." Her small smile disappeared as she looked up at Kurt. "Of course, she didn't really look very pretty…lying on that table, underneath those harsh, energy efficient lights…"

_Sue coughed as she looked at Becky lying on the table. She turned to the coroner. "May I have a moment?" He nodded, and edged away from the dead body of her daughter. Sue took a couple of steps closer and peered down at Becky's face for a few seconds. She knew what she had to do. _

_She quickly opened the bag she'd brought - she never usually carried bags, but for this purpose, it was necessary - and pulled out the cosmetics bag she had. First, she started with the eye shadow, and gently painted the closed eyelids of the dead teenager. _

"They say that one of the many comforts of having children is knowing that your youth hasn't fled, but merely been passed on to the next generation."

_Sue couldn't help it; a tear dripped down her nose as she rummaged through the bag and took out the rouge. Just as with her eyelids, Sue made sure to be gentle with Becky's cheeks, and make sure she did it right._

"They say that when a parent dies, a child feels his or her mortality…but when a child dies before their parent, it's immortality that a parent loses."

_Finally was the lipstick. The tone really would have suited Becky, if she was alive. Sue's hand shook slightly, but she managed not to ruin her work._

_Stepping back slightly and tucking the make-up back into her bag, she shook her head in disbelief. "You are so, so beautiful, Becky…you always will be a pretty girl."_

"Sue," Kurt muttered, feeling quite sick. "I'm so sorry."

Sue sighed. "Well, you did encourage her, Pear Hips. That's true…but you were just trying to be kind, weren't you?" Kurt gave a small nod. "I was the one who sent her out into the world tonight…and it did what it will do…"

There was a long silence as the two just drank their coffee. Kurt couldn't believe it; not three days ago, Becky had been breaking into their house and asking to be made a "pretty girl" but now…

"Becky was a wilful child," Sue admitted, putting her head in her hands. "I'll give her that. In truth, I think she was the closest to being like me than any of my other monsters, considering that they were all adopted…"

"I didn't know you had other children," Kurt said, surprised by this.

Sue nodded and gave a sigh. "Kurt…Blaine's my adopted son."

Kurt's eyes widened, and he tried to remember how to breathe properly…Blaine…adopted by Sue?…no…it couldn't be… "Wait, what?"

"He can't know about this, Kurt," Sue stated sadly, looking him straight in the eye. "He can't know that Becky is gone now…not now…he doesn't react well to certain things." She reached across the table and grabbed Kurt's arm; in response, the teenager jumped in his seat. "You have to promise me, Pear Hips, that you won't tell him."

The teenager blinked. "I…I don't understand."

Sue snorted. "Of course you don't…he's too sensitive for a boy. You've probably seen it…he's a young man with too deep feelings for his age…" The old woman pulled back, looking serious, and stood up to go to the fridge. "He's not made of steel, like me and Becky," She murmured, and turned around. Kurt could see that she'd picked up a picture of some sort and was holding it to her chest. "You…you have it too. That's probably why he likes you so much - he craves your strength." She held out the picture to Kurt, who stood up to take it from her. "Look…I think he misses his sister."

Kurt stared at the photo; Blaine was sitting with his arm around Becky, who looked a lot younger then. Both of them were smiling wildly, clearly happy and carefree.

* * *

Blaine had made for the beach. He was very aware of the group chasing after him at top speed, and he was starting to get extremely out of breath by this point.

When he got to the beach, he had to stop. He was going to die otherwise. He looked over his shoulder as he bent over to cough, and saw that all five of them were right behind him still. He turned to face them, still trying to breathe. "I used to run track-"

"We know," The cheerleader - Mercedes - said, glaring at him.

"Is someone going to explain this to me?" He asked.

The Goth - Tina - walked straight up to him. "Do you believe in God?"

He raised a triangular eyebrow. "Is this what this is about? You guys are a campus crusade-"

Tina shoved him backwards into a bin. "You asked me if I believed in God and you put a gun to my head!" She snarled, her finger pointing into his chest. "I said yes! I wasn't even telling the truth when I said that! And then…you pulled the trigger."

Blaine's eyes widened. "What is this? Is this part of a Halloween act, because the make-up…it's chilling, don't get me wrong. But the performance-"

He was cut off by Ryder grabbing him and kneeing him in the stomach. He threw the shorter teenager to the floor, the group standing behind him. "NO MORE BULLSHIT, BLAINE! YOU OWE US AN EXPLANATION!"

"WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?" Blaine yelled out, lifting his head from the floor.

Ryder took a step forwards and kicked him in the stomach before bending down. "Why did you target the jocks? I never did anything to you!"

"It wasn't just the jocks," The stoner - Brett - stated, spitting at Blaine. "I mean, look at me, look at Jacob." He turned to the bespectacled teenager. "Did you ever once go to a football game?" Jacob shook his head. "This guy was honour roll…he could have been valedictorian!" He kicked Blaine in the back. "ASSHOLE! I know I'm not going to change the world or anything, but he could have! He could have been something, and you ruined all of that potential!"

Blaine struggled to sit up, leaning against a nearby bench as he groaned in pain. "We wanna know why," Mercedes gritted out, looking close to tears. "You owe us that much!"

"Way more than that!" Tina muttered, also looking close to tears.

Blaine lifted his head, panting harshly. "I-I think you've got the wrong guy…"

"No!" Mercedes cried, emotions getting the better of her. "Don't you dare! We have been looking for you for years!"

"He's screwing with us," Ryder stated.

_Blaine had fantasies sometimes…he had fantasies of walking down the hallway, his face painted ready for death, like a Grim Reaper…_

"Maybe he's in denial," Tina said when Blaine bowed his head in pain.

_He was honestly helping them; the world was full of shit and piss and vomit in the streets…there were assholes who picked on him for being gay…he was helping to take these people to a nice clean place-_

"Maybe he's psychotic," Brett retorted.

_-Blaine imagined walking into a classroom…his gun at the ready…people looked up from their schoolwork, the teacher stood up-_

"GET OUT!" He screamed, hitting at his gelled hair. "GET OUT OF MY HEAD!"

_-Fantasy Blaine smiled at the blood and carnage._

Mercedes bent down next to him. "We're not in your head," She stated. "We're right here."

As Blaine just sobbed, unable to get the images to leave his mind, the jock spoke up. "Mercedes…the sun's coming up."

"Just say it," Mercedes whispered, voice hoarse as she fought back tears. Blaine slowly brought his hands away from his face so that he could look at her. "Just say what you did."

The entire group looked at him expectantly.

"I-I should be thirty four," Mercedes sobbed, reaching a hand up to rub at her eyes. "I should be married…with babies…"

"I don't know you," Blaine murmured, looking at her apologetically. "I'm so sorry…I don't know you…I don't know any of you."

The group looked away, unable to take it. Tina walked up to Mercedes, trying to help her up. "Come on, we've gotta go."

Blaine watched after them as they walked away, tears dripping down his cheeks.

The Dead Breakfast Club weren't the only ones who had to go back at sunset.

* * *

Santana looked down at the floor sadly as she slowly walked back to the gates of Murder House. From beside her, Hiram appeared, looking very worn out. Other ghosts also appeared from various places; Terri looking up at the house sadly, the twins playing with their snaps, and Emma and Shannon in their teachers outfits.

"How was your night?" Hiram asked dully.

Santana sighed. "My mother's dead."

"Oh," Hiram awkwardly patted her shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"I couldn't go with her," Santana muttered, still not looking away from the floor.

As they reached the gates, LeRoy appeared. He joined their group next to Hiram, looking apologetic. "I'm not speaking to you," Hiram said slowly.

"I'm sorry," LeRoy murmured. "I just can't help myself."

"I feel like I'm doomed to an eternity of being trapped in an unhappy relationship working on this goddamn house…which will never be the way I want it."

There was a short silence between the three. "You are," Santana informed him, even though she was aware that he knew that.

* * *

"What is it with you girls?" Luke questioned quietly; Quinn was sat in the backseat of the cruiser, staring out of the window. "You've got everything to live for, but then you throw it away over some guy who you can't have because dumps you."

Quinn looked up. "I had him. We were in love, but…he couldn't handle the long distance."

"His family are nice," Luke stated wisely. "Yet you terrorised them…and Mrs Hudson-Hummel is pregnant…man, that's just plain evil. You don't do things like that out of love."

Quinn didn't say anything, and just stared out of the window.

"I see," Luke said.

"No," Quinn argued quietly. "You don't see anything…he was the love of my life." She looked out of the window again, tired by the previous night's events. "What's going to happen now?"

"You're going to jail."

Neither of them spoke anymore; a few minutes later, Luke pulled up to the curb by the police station and got out of the car. He went around the side of the vehicle to get Quinn out.

However, when he opened the door, she was gone.

* * *

Finn wasn't even sure about what he was going to say to Rachel. He didn't know what was going to happen between them after that…he didn't want to know. He wanted everything to go back to normal, that's what.

"Hey," He greeted quietly, sitting next to her on the porch steps. "So…so…"

"Why didn't you tell me about her?" Rachel asked, looking up at him with red-rimmed eyes. He slumped a little at the question. "I'm your girlfriend…you should have told me-"

Finn gave an annoyed sigh. "What's there to tell, Rach? I dated her, we moved, we broke up, I started dating you, and then she got pregnant-"

"You went to be with her," Rachel accused.

"Yeah," Finn agreed slowly. "Because she wanted an abortion…but she didn't get it, and now she has this crazy idea that I'm going to ditch everything just to be with her."

The brunette girl just looked at the floor, a tear making its way down her cheek. "I don't think we should date anymore, Finn."

Finn looked at her with wide eyes. "Rach…"

"She tried to kill me!" Rachel stated loudly, looking up at her boyfriend with a burning passion in her eyes. "A-And knowing that you were…you were going to let her kill a baby like that…I just can't…"

She stood up, striding away before Finn could stop her.


	6. Piggy Piggy

**Warning for this chapter: Do not read if school shootings upset you. Do not read if suicide or cutting triggers you in any way.**

Piggy Piggy

1994

The doorbell rang, and Sue stomped down the stairs to answer the door. When she opened it, she found herself face to face with a cop. "Does Blaine Anderson live here?"

Sue raised a brow. "Yeah…what's it to you? What's he done now?"

The cop didn't answer, instead walking into the house with the S.W.A.T team following after him.

* * *

Mercedes had been doing homework; being a Cheerio, she needed to keep up her GPA so that she wouldn't be kicked off of the team.

From next to her, her study partner had taken to throwing paper notes at her. She smiled at Ryder. "Stop it!" She giggled.

Ryder grinned, turning back to his work. "Okay…"

Jacob Ben Israel had been typing up the next article for the school newspaper; sure, he wasn't popular because of it, but it was something he enjoyed doing. The student librarian, Artie Abrams, was reading from his place behind the desk, and Tina Cohen-Chang had been walking around, reading a book as she hummed to herself.

And then the gunshots had gone off.

Artie straightened up, looking around. Some people were running past the library, screaming loudly. The other students in the library also looked up from their various tasks, not used to hearing gunshots sound in the school.

There was the sound of footsteps running towards the library. Mercedes and Ryder stood up from their seats, panicking immediately. Artie also stood up, and they all looked at the library doors.

The door handle turned, and Brett ran in, slamming the doors shut behind him. He took one look at the people in the library, and reached for a nearby chair so that he could block the doors.

"What the Hell, dude?" Ryder questioned.

"Somebody's shooting up the school," Brett panted as he moved a book trolley next to the doors, tired from the running. As he turned to face them, they all realised he was covered in blood. "He's just shooting people!"

"What, are you hit?" Artie asked quickly "Where are you hit?"

Brett looked down at himself. "I…uh…I don't know…man, that's not my blood!" Jacob stood up from his computer, mouth hanging open. "I was standing next to Azimio Adams, a-and the guy shot him in the freaking skull!"

"Who's doing this?" Tina asked desperately.

"I-I don't know."

Ryder bit his lip. "We need to get the Hell out of here!" He ran to the now-blocked doors, only for a gunshot to go off from the other side. He stopped immediately.

Another shot sounded, and Artie took into action. "Go!" Artie pleaded, and they all ran in different directions. Mercedes and Ryder threw themselves underneath the table they'd been working at, pressed close together. Tina headed behind some of the bookshelves. Jacob hurled himself behind the librarian's desk, poking his head above the counter to see what was going on. Brett went to hide behind one of the couches situated in the library.

Loud, booming footsteps sounded from behind the blocked door. There was a second's silence, and then the door handle rattled as the person tried to get in.

Mercedes let out a cry, only for it to be muffled by Ryder's hand over her mouth. The rest of them looked around at each other, terrified, and tried not to make any noise.

The footsteps started to walk away…they walked around the library, as if looking for another way to get in. Tina cautiously moved out of her hiding place, and Jacob and Artie cautiously stood up straight.

And then everyone's eyes fell on the door on the opposite side of the library; it wasn't locked or blocked in any way.

Ryder moved from his hiding place to stand up and gesture across the library to Tina, who was closest to the door. "Lock…Lock the door!"

Tina looked at the door, terrified, just as the handle started to turn. She didn't move, frozen by shock. Artie strode forwards and forced the door shut with his body, holding against the shooter. The other kids looked around at each other, breathing and panting harshly.

Artie made a grimace. A second later, the sound of gunshots sounded, and Artie flew backwards, bleeding.

Tina let out a scream and ran across to the other side of the library, hiding behind some bookcases. Jacob threw himself over the teacher's desk so that he was further away from the door, Brett ducked his head even further behind the couch, and Ryder darted back underneath the table with Mercedes.

Brett poked his head around the side of couch so that he could see the door, breathing heavily and heaving. The door opened, and the shooter walked in, carrying his gun. He pulled his head back, away from sight.

The shooter stepped over the body of Artie, which was now limp, and started to walk through the library.

Tina tried not to make any noise as the sound of their boots came closer and closer to where she was hiding, and she slid around to the very end of the bookcase, breathing heavily. Bending her head slightly, she peeked through the gap between the tops of books and the next shelf, and saw the shooter walk past her hiding spot. As soon as he'd passed, she moved to the next one, trying not to cry, and moved down the side of the aisle.

The shooter started to whistle "Twisted Nerve", and Tina's breaths quickened. Suddenly, the books next to her fell off their shelves, obviously having been pushed. Tina screamed out, unable to hold it in. She looked down at the books and back up again - when she looked up, she found herself facing a gun.

She let out one last sob, and then the gun was fired. Everyone else in the library tried not to jump, looking around for something - _anything_ - to help them.

"Hey!" Ryder whispered to Jacob, who just looked at him helplessly. Ryder pointed to the phone by the librarian's desk. "Phone someone!"

"What?" Jacob mouthed, looking useless.

The footsteps drew closer. Ryder looked over at Brett, who was the most vulnerable at the moment. As if a sick joke, the shooter's feet stopped by the end of the couch where Brett was hiding. The teenager looked up at the shooter pleadingly. "No…No, please, NO!"

As Jacob tried to peek over the desk, another booming shot sounded. Ryder looked down at the floor, shoulders shaking heavily with the effort it took not to cry. "Get the phone!"

Jacob nodded, and scrambled across the floor to reach up and grab the phone and its receiver. He put it on the floor with a too-loud 'clunk' and quickly tried to dial the numbers into the phone. As he put the phone to his ear, the shooter appeared in front of him, and he looked up with a terrified expression.

As the gun was pointed to Jacob's head, Ryder and Mercedes both looked away, making sure not to see it; they still heard the gunshot though.

The shooter started to walk away, and suddenly, Ryder felt a lot braver. "Screw this," He muttered to Mercedes, who just stared at him like he was mad. "It's gonna be okay," He told her reassuringly. "E-Everything's going to be okay…"

Before Mercedes could try to stop him, he'd pulled himself out from underneath the table and started walking towards the retreating shooter's back. The shooter cocked his gun just as Ryder called out to him. "Hey!" The shooter turned to look at him and raised his gun. "That's enough, get out of here-"

He was shot in the skull right in front of Mercedes' eyes. Unable to hold it in, Mercedes lifted her hand up to her mouth and started to sob loudly. She hadn't even realised it until it happened - bright yellow urine was starting to puddle around her as she sobbed brokenly. "O-O-Oh G-G-G-God…"

She knew she'd screwed up; he was walking towards the table, gun slung over his shoulder, and she was going to die…

"Oh God!" She screamed out, muffled by her hand. The shooter put his fingers underneath the desk and threw it backwards. "PLEASE!" He didn't listen, and picked his gun up again with both hands as she screamed out. She looked up at him, vision blurry because of her tears, and recognised the shooter with shock.

Blaine Anderson.

"WHY?!" She sobbed, looking up at him pleadingly. He didn't answer, instead cocking his gun and making her wince.

As she looked straight at him, dark brown eyes fixed on hazel, she pleaded one last time. "PLEASE!"

There was a loud gunshot and everything went black.

* * *

"Please…please don't hurt him!…"

Blaine stared down at his bedroom floor, hazel eyes wide with the sudden realisation of what he'd done, and started to shake his head slowly.

His bedroom door was forced open, and his head shot up as the S.W.A.T team came into his room, red lasers from their guns fixed on him.

"Just let me talk to him! BLAINE!" That was his mother…well, adoptive mother. "NO…Get out of my way! He'll go peacefully you asses!"

Blaine stood up, hands raised in defence.

"He's just a little kid! BLAINE!"

Slowly, Blaine twisted his right hand around, his forefinger pointing towards his skull, the rest forming a tight fist with his thumb pointed upwards; a gun.

He smirked at the S.W.A.T team charismatically, and mimed shooting himself in the head, a light 'bang' escaping his lips.

2010

_Google search: Westfield High Massacre_

Kurt didn't blink as he scrolled through the pages of results he was given. He clicked on the homepage for Westfield High School, and saw a page for the victims of the massacre. He clicked on it and scrolled down, looking at the pictures.

It was _them_…the Dead Breakfast Club…Mercedes Jones, Ryder Lynn, Jacob Ben Israel, Brett Stanley (better known, according to his profile, as 'Stoner Brett'), and Tina Cohen-Chang. There were about ten others, but Kurt didn't recognise any of them.

He went back to his search page and clicked on a news article; it showed a picture of Ryder and Mercedes hugging each other tightly, looking happy. Kurt saw a related article titled 'Suspect in School Shooting Dead' and clicked on it.

His boyfriend's face filled up his laptop screen, grinning happily as if nothing were wrong.

Kurt sat back in his chair, heart beating hard. He tried to tell himself that it wasn't his boyfriend, just a look-alike…his hopes were dashed when he saw the name "Blaine Anderson" printed in the caption beneath the photo.

The teenager slammed his computer shut and ran out of his room. He practically flew down the stairs, trying not to cry. "Dad?" He called, terrified, before heading towards the kitchen. "Carole? Dad? Daddy!"

He halted in the doorway when he saw none other than Sue Sylvester sitting at the kitchen table, already helping herself to a cup of coffee. "They're not here."

"Where are they?" Kurt asked, taking a hesitant step forwards. "Did you hurt either of them?"

Sue paused dramatically before giving a laugh. "No. They went to the store to get some groceries for your supper to night." Sue folded her arms. "You've found out about Blaine, haven't you? I knew you would."

Kurt moved to stand in front of her. "Get out of my house!" He snarled. "This is not happening!"

"Pear Hips, even I questioned my sanity when I found out," Sue continued, ignoring him. "But this house…boy, does it make you a believer." When Kurt just stared at her and sat down opposite, she continued. "You see, Kurt, we were living here when Blaine lost his way. And I know that the house drove him to it."

Kurt frowned. "What? N-No…that can't be real!"

"You're a smart kid, Pear Hips," Sue stated incredulously. "How can you be so arrogant to think that there's only one reality you're able to see?" Kurt didn't say anything, instead looking down at the table with a pale expression. "I want you to meet someone."

* * *

Sue had taken Kurt to her house next door. Kurt hadn't really wanted to go, but didn't find the energy to protest.

"Kurt Hummel - aka: Pear Hips - meet Isabelle Wright." Kurt didn't say anything, instead just staring at the other woman in the kitchen. Sue scoffed to herself. "The child has no manners. Isabelle is a gifted medium - she can help."

"You're confused," Isabelle stated kindly, giving Kurt a smile. "You're overwhelmed. Why wouldn't you be?"

Kurt folded his arms. "I never asked for any of this."

"None of us did," Isabelle agreed, shaking her head sadly. "But nothing can be done once one's been chosen."

As she gestured for Kurt to sit down, Sue put down some cups of coffee in front of Isabelle and herself. "Isabelle's been helping me out for years. I found out about her through Craigslist after I went though all the phonies. But she's a hundred percent for real."

Kurt sat down as Isabelle started to talk again. "I've just come from a meeting with Lifetime. They're interested in making a pilot with me."

"A Craigslist psychic with a Hollywood Agent. Who'd have thought?" Kurt muttered dryly.

Isabelle stared at him, smile fading a little bit. "A medium, dear. I can't read your future…that's a different gift."

"You want some coffee, Pear Hips?" Sue asked, not even bothering to wait for his answer as she poured some coffee into a cup.

Kurt rubbed at his forehead tiredly. "I'm in a dream."

"I used to be like you, Kurt," Isabelle said, taking a delicate sip of her drink. "Until I was twenty five. Out of the blue, my cleaning lady shows up as I'm brushing my teeth." Kurt looked up, somewhat intrigued. "Except she's got no toilet brush or rubber gloves, and she's naked and bloody. Her husband murdered her with an icepick."

"It's hard to keep good help," The older woman murmured under her breath, sitting down opposite the teenager.

"Do you think I wanted a bloody Mexican ghost in my bathroom?" The younger woman questioned, shaking her head. "All I wanted was to improve my tennis game and unsee Charlotte Whitney as President of my Book Club. But I was chosen, and when you're chosen, you either get with the programme or you go crazy." Kurt shivered slightly, resting his arms on the table. "Understanding the truth is your only choice."

"What's your version of the truth?" Kurt asked, looking her up and down.

Isabelle didn't answer for a moment. "There are some who have an understandable violent and vengeful reaction to being horribly murdered. They refuse to move on until they exact their pound of flesh…And then there are very few souls…like Blaine…" At the mention of his boyfriend, Kurt straightened up. "And they don't even know that they're dead. They walk among the living in childlike confusion."

There was a long silence in the kitchen as her words sunk in. Kurt looked down at the table, feeling extremely overwhelmed.

"We must help him cross-over, Kurt," Isabelle pleaded, leaning over and putting a hand on his arm.

Kurt looked between the two adults, shaking his head in disbelief. "This is bullshit…I'm being set up…my computer was…it must have been…"

As he trailed off hopelessly, the two women shared a pitying look. "Kurt, who's Elizabeth?" Isabelle asked, wrapping her hands around his right one. Kurt blinked, his heart stopping. "She wants to talk to you."

_An eight-year old Kurt watched after his father as he left; his mother wanted to talk to him alone. Kurt looked down at his mother…his beautiful mother, who looked so pale and sick lying on that hospital bed as she slowly died. _

"_Kurt," She murmured hoarsely, looking up at him desperately. "I love you, sweetie. Stay strong for me, baby…" She took a deep shuddering breath. "They won't understand you…they never will understand how special you are…"_

Kurt stared off into the distance; he didn't know it at the time, but his mother had been talking about the other kids at school…the ones who would bully him for being gay…

"Does that mean anything to you, Kurt?" Isabelle asked, glad she was getting a reaction. "'They don't understand you'?"

Kurt let out a choking sob, lurching out of his seat and towards the kitchen door. As the door slammed shut, Isabelle and Sue looked at each other. "Can I trust him?" Sue asked quietly.

Isabelle hesitated. "I'm not sure."

* * *

Carole had these weird dreams; she didn't know what was causing them, only that they were freaking her out.

It started with her just rubbing lotion onto her belly (in the dream, she was more pregnant than she actually was) to the sound of cellos playing. She could feel the baby kicking, but because she was more pregnant in the dream, she didn't question it.

And then she'd feel it; a hand from inside her belly stroking upwards. In the dream, she'd look down at it in mixed horror and fascination. Another hand would appear, stroking against her belly and pushing through her skin. The dream then ended with her screaming, and she'd jerk awake violently to find that she was sweating.

She hadn't told her husband about these dreams; he'd just tell her it was PTSD or something (not that he knew what that was), and she just _knew_ it wasn't. In a ridiculous way, Carole had the urge to call Luke about it; he was an understanding guy, and she felt safe with him around.

She decided to keep it to herself, though. It was probably nothing, she reasoned, and would go away soon.

* * *

Finn had, honestly, tried talking to Rachel a million times. He knew that she was always around the house for some reason, but her couldn't find her anywhere; she wasn't out in the yard, she wasn't by the gazebo or on the porch…it was like she'd disappeared.

He'd started to give up that week. Finn had decided to sit out by the gazebo morosely, pondering over all his stupid decisions that had caused him to do this.

That was when he heard someone behind him.

"How have you been?"

Finn turned quickly to look at his ex-girlfriend, blinking innocently. "Rach? Where have you been? I've been looking and looking-"

"We broke up," Rachel said, raising her hands to signal for him to stop talking. "I had no reason to be around here after that." She looked down at the floor awkwardly. "Have you seen Quinn recently?"

"No," Finn said, standing up and taking a step towards her. "The security dude took her to jail, remember?"

Rachel's eyes flickered a little, as if not believing it. "Huh."

"I'm so sorry for everything she did to you," Finn stated, looking a lot like a kicked puppy. "She's…clingy. She always has been…and I'm sorry that she decided to take it out on you." He took a deep breath, trying to get the courage to say what he wanted. "I really like you, Rachel…you're one of the most pretty girls I've seen since we got here, a-and-"

"And I broke up with you," The other teenager interrupted. "Finn, I like you too…you're one of the first guys that was nice to me…but I just can't date you…not knowing that you went behind my back and you lied."

Before Finn could say anything else, Rachel had stormed past him, leaving him alone under the gazebo.

* * *

Kurt had never felt so bad in his life; not when his mother died, not when he'd been bullied mercilessly for months on end, not even when his dad had been in hospital because of his heart attack. He just couldn't wrap it around his head that he was dating someone who had potentially killed all of these innocent people. Those people had lives, family, friends…they had a future to live out, and Blaine had destroyed it.

He wasn't 'emo' or 'goth' or anything else of the sort; he just wanted relief. Because he didn't shave himself, he'd stolen a couple of his dad's razor blades and kept them in an old pencil case.

Kurt made sure to shut the door - his Dad and Carole didn't need to see it. He opened the pencil case, putting it on the sink, and pulled out one of the blades, careful not to cut his fingers to shreds, and proceeded to rinse it in the sink. Once he was sure it was clean, he stared down at it numbly.

_Am I really going to do this?_

Before he could chicken out, Kurt hurriedly pulled up the sleeve on his sweater, exposing his arm, and gripped the blade tighter in his hand. He took a deep breath, put the blade to his arm, and sliced at his arm. It wasn't too deep - he wasn't trying to kill himself - but it bled quite a bit.

He looked at himself in the mirror, not even sure what he was doing anymore. He could see that the razor blade had his blood stained on it, and sick thought creeped into his head.

He imagined himself putting the blade to his throat and slicing it open; he imagined the blood pouring out of him steadily, draining him of life.

Kurt hurriedly looked down, looking for something to bandage the cut with before he could do anything else.

"Are you scared now?"

That was Blaine; he knew that voice from anywhere. He looked up and spun around.

Blaine was gone.

* * *

Finn wasn't good at schoolwork - hell, he was shit at it. But the one thing he knew he could count on was making some friends that would hopefully give him some help.

That was how he met Trent. When he'd first started at Dalton, Finn had been sat next to Trent in both his English and his History class; the other boy was round-faced but really kind, so Finn didn't mind having to sit with him. The two occasionally talked, and it was only when Finn said that Kurt was planning on joining the Glee Club at the school and found out that Trent was part of the club that the two of them became sort-of-friends.

That was why Finn wasn't particularly worried when the other boy came looking for him during their free period, looking rather uncomfortable. "Hey, dude! What's up?"

Trent looked down at the floor. "I-I need to talk to you, Finn."

"Cool, dude. Just go ahead."

Trent took a deep breath and sat down opposite the tall teen. "I don't have many friends, Finn, so…please don't get too freaked out. I just really need someone to talk to." Finn nodded, waiting. "You know Urban legends? Well…they terrify me. Lately, it's gotten so bad that I can't even function.

Finn raised an eyebrow, confused. "Urban legends? Like…"

"All of them," Trent confessed, sitting down opposite him. "Bloody Mary, Candy Man, Lady in White…"

"What, like children's ghost stories?"

Trent nodded. "When I was little, my brothers would tell them to me…hold me down, force me to listen to them."

Finn was rather blown away by his confession. "Well, older brothers can be mean dude-"

"They're younger."

Finn blinked. "Oh. Right. Well…" He looked down at the table. "That's…quite a big thing to admit, dude. I wish I knew how to help."

"Nothing else scares me, Finn," Trent admitted desperately. "Not terrorism or death or any of that stuff…just these stories. I know that they're utter crap, but something inside of me believes them. I-I can't keep a relationship going…no one wants to screw a guy who has to sleep with the lights on…"

Finn raised his hand to stop him from talking. "Trent, I get that you're nervous about this-"

"I haven't even had the courage to look in the mirror," Trent continued, ignoring Finn as he went into full-blown panic mode. "It's because of the Piggy Man."

The taller teen raised an eyebrow at him. "Huh? Piggy Man? I've never heard of it."

"Oh God, it's so terrifying," Trent mumbled, taking a deep breath. "The story goes that he was a hog butcher in Chicago, and before he would go into the slaughter pen, he would put on this pig mask…to trick the others into thinking that he was one of them. A-And then he would snort like a pig…and then one day, he slipped. He fell, and the pigs tore him apart. T-T-They never found one piece of him, so everyone assumed…It was not too long after that his former customers started turning up…dead. Gutted and skinned like a pig a-and hung upside down in a bathtub to drain like a hog in a shop."

Finn shivered slightly.

"And they say that if you stand in the mirror and say, 'Here Piggy, Pig Pig', that he'll return for the slaughter."

Finn leaned forwards, captivated by this story. "Have you tried it?"

The chubbier boy paused before shaking his head slowly. "No. I'm too scared to. But I-I'm scared that I might try it. It scares the Hell out of me."

The bell rang in the school, indicating lunch time was about to start. Finn started to shut his books, thinking hard. "I've gotta go, dude…I promised I'd meet David in the Cafeteria. How about I see you tomorrow at Recess or something?"

"Okay," Trent agreed, nodding with relief as he stood up. "Thanks, Finn."

Finn stopped for a moment. "Trent…try shaving in a mirror before tomorrow. I promise nothing will happen."

Trent nodded, slower this time. "A-Alright. I'll try."

* * *

Burt had been sipping at his coffee casually as he looked over the morning paper when it happened. Kurt had been kept off school because he claimed to not be feeling very well, and it was only when he wondered in at that moment that Burt remembered he was meant to be taking care of his son.

"Dad," Kurt murmured, clutching his stomach and looking pale in his jumper. Burt looked up, frowning at his son's state. "I-I'm sorry, Daddy."

This really alarmed Burt; his son had stopped calling him 'Daddy' about eight years ago. "What's the matter, kiddo?"

"It's all my fault," Kurt whispered, shaking his head in disbelief.

Burt stood up, misunderstanding completely. "No…Kurt, no it's not. Sue knows that you didn't know Becky was there…and me and Carole love you very much."

"It's the darkness," Kurt sniffled. "I-It has me."

Burt wrapped his arms around his son. "No, kiddo, no…I've got you." He shut his eyes. "Liz, I have you."

Kurt's eyes widened slightly at the mention of his mother's name. His father wasn't listening, and that was the final sign he needed.

* * *

Santana watched as Carole rubbed at her temples tiredly; the pregnant woman had been on the phone for a good ten minutes trying to get information about a nurse, and was so far failing.

"She's a nurse in your department," Carole bit out testily, looking down at the countertop. "I think her name is Angie Something…she fainted during an ultrasound…right, she's an ultrasound technician."

Santana shook her head as she picked up a teacup to watch.

"Wait, so she quit? Would you ask her to call me then?…" Both of them looked up as the door creaked open; it was Sue, holding a plate of some sort. "Right, I'm Carole Hudson-Hummel…Okay, thank you." Carole put the phone down on the countertop, giving her neighbour a fake smile. "Hi, Sue. I'm so sorry about Becky…Burt and I have been meaning to make a condolence call…"

Sue put her hand up to stop her. "Don't. Santana tells me that you've been suffering dreadful morning sickness; every time you leave the house you can't help but puke your guts out."

Carole blinked, nodding and stroking a tuft of hair back. "Yeah."

"Well," Sue started, taking a few steps towards her. "Like my elderly mother used to suggest before she went batty, I brought you some offal." Santana's head snapped up, intrigued by the conversation. "It's meant to be good for you during the first trimester. My mother preferred pork."

As Sue put the plate down and started to unwrap the little bundle on top of it, Carole stood up to get a better look at what was going on. "Well, that's really nice of you to think of me during this."

The older woman scoffed slightly. "Life's for the living." She pulled back the paper, showing the raw red organs in blood. Carole tried not to wince. "This is sweetbreads. Now, these two are thymus glands from the heart and throat…and this one is the pancreas. It's apparently the best thing for a mother and child. I mean, it's full of protein and Vitamin C and stuff…Speaking of which," Sue gave Carole a fake looking smile. "How's your other babies? The big bumbling one and the one with pear hips?"

"Oh," Carole muttered, still not quite used to seeing raw organs on her kitchen countertop. "Finn's fine, maybe a little quiet since Halloween, and Kurt is…he's Kurt."

"He was such a help to me," Sue admitted, looking down at the floor as if embarrassed. "You know…when Becky passed."

Carole nodded, pleased to hear that her step-son was being polite to the neighbours. "Yeah. He's been very upset about it, just spending time in his room."

"Sometimes kids going through transition just need a little time."

"Well, I can't thank you enough for the offal," Carole said hurriedly.

Sue gave a small smirk and picked up the organs in their packet. She held them out as she took a few steps towards Santana. "Santana, why don't you sauté these for the lady's lunch? Just do them until they're cooked, with sweet butter."

Santana took them, giving her employer a small smile. "I'd be happy to do that for Mrs Hudson-Hummel."

Carole gave an uneasy laugh as Sue headed for the door and Santana went to cook the sweetbreads. Sue turned in the doorway, smirking more obviously now. "We need that baby. We need another…little 'angel' around."

With that, she left and shut the door behind her. Carole let out a sigh of relief and turned to talk to her maid. "Sit down," Santana said gently, gesturing to a seat at the counter. "You're pregnant, and you need to rest." Carole did so, settling for watching Santana sizzling the meat. There was a long silence before Santana spoke again, this time tentatively. "May I say something? It could be considered rude but is sincerely heartfelt."

The pregnant woman straightened up, nodding nervously. "I guess so."

"I know you and Mister Hummel moved out here with the boys to start life as a new family after your wedding," Santana started, not daring to look at the other woman. "But I really don't think that it's working, and you're fooling no one." When she looked over her shoulder, she saw that her employer was sitting with her head in her hands. "I hope I haven't upset you with speaking my mind so freely."

Carole didn't answer.

Neither of them spoke after that; it wasn't long until Santana had finished the sweetbreads, and she put them on a plate. She slid the plate along the table to Carole, giving her a friendly smile. "If you want, I can give you a pinch of sea salt to add some taste."

"I'm fine, thank you."

"And I've left the pancreas uncooked," Santana straightened up, giving Carole a wise look. "They say it's the most tender organ of them all, especially uncooked."

Carole tried not to laugh at the thought of it. "Uhh…no. I'm not eating raw meat-"

"Think of the baby," Santana cut in abruptly.

Carole fell silent and picked up her fork, feeling hungry all of a sudden. The maid watched as she took a bite of it with a knowing smile, well aware that she was right in this situation. When Carole looked up in mid-chew, she made a noise of approval; Santana took this as a signal that she could finish her work now, and walked away to leave the younger woman to finish her meal.

By the time Carole had finished, Santana hadn't come back; this didn't bother Carole was more than capable of washing up her plate (or, rather, putting it in the dishwasher). As she ran the water in the sink, she could smell the rest of the offal - the pancreas - sitting on the side. She took one look at it before turning the water off and leaning down to get a good smell of it; she couldn't lie, it _did_ smell good.

Shaking it off, she quickly left the kitchen.

* * *

"I don't think I can do this…"

"Trent, dude…calm down," Finn put his hands on the chubbier boy's shoulders and walked him down the hall. "It's just going to be a little exercise…and you're in _my_ house, so nothing's going to happen. You're safe." Finn stopped in front of the bathroom door. "I'll stand right outside this door, and you'll try the whole looking in a mirror thing."

Trent stared at the bathroom with wide eyes. "I-I can't…"

Finn gripped his shoulders tighter when he tried to move away. "Yeah, you can." He pulled his phone out of his pocket and started fiddling with it. "Look, I have torch on here…press this button here, and use this if you get too scared. Only if you have to." Trent took it from him, shaking on the spot and taking deep breaths to calm himself. As he stepped into the bathroom, Finn muttered, "I'm going to turn out the light, dude, and close the door but I'll be right here. Just breathe."

Trent nodded shakily, taking some steps into the bathroom. Finn slowly turned off the lights, and the larger boy let out a small wince. From behind him, he could hear Finn shut the door; as soon as it clicked shut, he started to choke a little. "Oh God Oh God Oh God, I think I'm having a heart attack!"

"I'm right here!" He heard the other teenager call. "I'm, like, five feet away from you. Just look in the mirror and say the words."

Trent moved to stand in front of the mirror; his breathing picked up even more as he looked at his reflection, and he cleared his throat. "Here…Piggy…Pig…Pig." It was hoarse and just about audible. As soon as he'd said those words, he spun around to look around the bathroom; nothing was there. He turned back to the mirror again, feeling just about ready to give it another try. "Here, Piggy, Pig-"

He was cut off my the sound of scrambling; he turned quickly to face the noise - it seemed to be coming from the bathtub. Trent hurriedly pressed the button on Finn's phone to turn on the torch and started to walk towards the bathtub, curious as to what it was. When he found himself standing by the bathtub, he reached out and pulled the curtain back.

And then he screamed.

He found himself facing someone - they were pale, and had the appearance of someone who'd been drowned. They were wearing what looked like Gym clothes, and was glaring at him tiredly.

Trent screamed even more, backing away and collapsing against the sink. At that moment, Finn raced in through the door and turned on the lights, alarmed by his friend's screams. "TRENT! Dude! It's alright!"

"THERE'S SOMETHING IN THERE!" Trent yelled, not looking up as he pointed towards the bathtub. Finn frowned and peered past the curtains; no one was there.

"It's okay," Finn muttered, and Trent looked up to see nothing as well. Sobs started to overtake him, and he moved forwards to be closer to Finn. "It's alright, dude…"

Trent just sobbed even harder and shook his head. "I-I c-can't…I'm broken!"

Finn didn't know what to say; instead, he put an arm around the other boy's shoulder, and started to lead him out of the bathroom.

* * *

The needle glinted in the light, and Carole gripped at her husband's hand tighter than she already was. Burt winced slightly, but squeezed back dutifully.

The nurse smiled at them knowingly. "I've done over five thousand amnios, and not a single miscarriage, but who's counting?" She straightened up as she cleaned the needle.

Carole gestured to the needle nervously. "And this will tell us about…about Downs-"

"Downs Syndrome, Cystic Fibrosis, Spina Bifida. The amnio results should put your mind to ease." She sat down, ready to do the insertion, and looked at Burt expectantly. "We have to be nice to Mommy today; keep her off her feet, that kind of thing." Burt nodded just as the nurse's assistant started to squirt liquid onto his wife's belly. "Regina here is going to find the perfect spot so that we don't hurt the baby."

Regina used the transducer probe for a moment, looking at the skin. "Right…there. That's a good spot."

The nurse quickly swabbed at the area indicated. "You're going to feel a tiny little pinch…" And then Carole felt it. She arched upwards, reaching up to grip at Burt's shoulders for support. He clenched back, looking at anywhere but the needle.

* * *

"I owe you an apology."

Sebastian smirked from behind his sunglasses. "It attacked you too, didn't it?"

Kurt shook his head, just looking down at his coffee. "No. I just…I don't know what's real anymore. I just feel like I'm losing my mind."

Sebastian removed his sunglasses slowly, eying the other teenager up. "The Devil is real, you know." Kurt looked at his companion, eyes wide. "And he's not a little red man with horns and a tail…he can be _beautiful_."

An image of Blaine appeared in the countertenor's mind; handsome, charismatic…but was he really capable of doing these awful things?

"It's 'cause he's a fallen angel, and he used to be God's favourite," The taller teen straightened up, suddenly more animated. "You ever read the Book of Revelation?"

"No."

"In Heaven, there's this woman in labour, just _howling_ in pain. A-And there's this red dragon with seven heads waiting, so that he can _eat_ her baby." Kurt looked back down at his coffee. "But the archangel Michael, he hurls the dragon down to Earth. From that moment on, the red dragon hates the woman, declares war on her and all of her children. That's _us._"

Kurt didn't know what to believe anymore; this story was chilling, but he didn't believe in God or Heaven or any of that.

Sebastian sighed. "Things have gotten pretty weird for me."

"Me too," Kurt admitted, blinking tiredly. "I can't eat. I can't sleep-"

"The nights are the worst," The taller teen agreed morosely. "I get four hours if I'm lucky…and that's only with the help of pills."

There was a moment's silence between the two as Kurt processed what his companion had just said. "What kind of pills?"

Sebastian reached into his schoolbag and pulled a little capsule out; he discreetly passed it across the table to Kurt to look at.

Kurt stared down at it, his heart beating heavily in his chest. "Can I have this?"

* * *

_In memory of our fallen brothers and sisters_

Kurt stared at the memorial on the library wall; he didn't go to this school, so it was no wonder it was such an unfamiliar event to him. He caught sight of the names of the "Dead Breakfast Club" and drooped slightly.

As he turned around, he found himself faced with a young man in a wheelchair with glasses; he looked Kurt up and down, shaking his head. "They were over by the sofa; used to be a row of tables. I get about four or five of you sickos a year, usually Freshmen. What are you, a transfer?"

Kurt blinked, gripping his bag tighter. "I go to Dalton Academy…you're that teacher who used to be a student…you're like a hero."

"Now you know what heroes look like," The man - Artie, Kurt remembered vaguely - said dryly before wheeling himself past Kurt.

The teenager bit his lip before turning around to face Artie's back. "Wait! I'm sorry…I'm not like those other kids, I _know_ Blaine." It was only when the man turned his chair around that he realised what he'd said. "I-I mean, I know his Mom…we live next door to her." Kurt looked down at the floor and up again, gathering up all of his courage. "Did you know him? Before he did this?"

Artie shrugged a little as he considered his answer. "I knew his face; I shared a few classes with him, but never really talked to him. He didn't seem bad, actually. He came in here a lot too, and was kind of thoughtful and liked to read. Actually, he liked to borrow books on fashion."

"Was he bullied, or something?" Kurt blurted out before he could help it. "Did he even know the kids he shot?" Artie just turned his chair around, wheeling himself away without answering. "Please! I just want to know why he did it."

Artie snorted. "Me too."

Kurt didn't know why; he felt angry. "Why are you bullshitting me?!" He snapped loudly, eyebrows furrowing slightly, and Artie stopped again.

He wheeled himself backwards, turning back to the teenager. "If the bullet had been an inch to the right, it would have missed my spine, and I would have walked out of here; might have been able to stop him. I would have been able to dance again. However, if it had been an inch higher, it would have killed me." He glared at the teenager, reaching a hand up to push the glasses further up his nose. "Kid, sometimes shit just happens."

Kurt pursed his lips and held his head high. "Good people don't just have a bad day and start shooting people."

Artie rolled his eyes slightly at this remark. "Maybe he wasn't a good person." With that, he wheeled himself away from Kurt again, leaving the countertenor alone.

* * *

"Santana."

Santana looked up from her job of cleaning the countertop, giving a small smile to Carole, who was standing in the doorway.

"I'm afraid I've got some bad news."

Santana frowned, looking shocked. "You've lost the baby?"

Carole gave a light chuckle out of relief. "Oh, no. No." Santana looked relieved too, and turned back to her job of cleaning. "Look…stop cleaning! Please? Just come sit down."

The two both took a seat at the kitchen table; Carole spoke up again. "I'm afraid that we're going to have to let you go."

The maid's mouth fell open slightly. "I-I don't understand…the house is spotless-"

"It has nothing to do with you," Carole interrupted, trying to be reassuring.

Santana stood up, suddenly less able to listen. "Mrs Hudson-Hummel, this is not a job; for me, coming here is a reprieve."

"I understand…but Burt and I just can't afford it…"

The Latina lady lifted her head in dignity. "Then I'll work for free until you sell. I'll make the house gleam and glitter for the new owners, and perhaps they'll hire me." She paused, bowing her head slightly to look her employer in the eye seriously. "I've had my share of regrets, but leaving an expectant mother in the time of her need will not be one of them. I'm staying here."

Carole just beamed and laughed. "You're being so dramatic. I'm not helpless, Santana."

"Well, I'm not one to labour a point, but where has the time gone? You must be famished."

"Well, I am hungry."

Santana gave a knowing smile and moved to the other side of the kitchen; she picked up a nearby fork before walking over to the table where Carole was sat. "Sue dropped this by earlier with another delicious delicacy."

As she moved towards the fridge, Carole opened her mouth before shutting it. "No, Santana…I don't want you cooking for me. Please don't go to the trouble, come on…"

"Oh, I won't," Santana responded cheerfully, holding up a dish with a lid on it and moving towards the other woman. "It's served raw. That way, you and the baby will get the full measure of vitamins." She placed it on the table and smiled. "It's the most nutritious organ of them all, and it came from an organic farm; I hear the raw food movement is really taking off." When Carole didn't make any move to eat it, Santana just blinked. "For the baby," She said before turning to continue her jobs.

Carole took a deep breath before lifting the lid off of the dish; inside was something that looked like a brain. She tried not to feel too sick at the thought of eating a raw brain, but then chided herself slightly; it was good for the baby, which was important. She closed her eyes and picked up her knife and fork before digging in.

Safe to say, it ended up being very delicious.

* * *

Kurt hummed to himself as he shut the door behind him. He made sure to type in the security code in the alarm system by the door, so that the police wouldn't be alerted by it, and walked out into the hallway.

That was when he saw his boyfriend's form walk past him from the corner of his eye.

He stopped dead in his tracks, squinting into the darkness; when he saw nothing, he dropped his bag to the floor and took a couple of steps forwards. "Blaine?" When he saw nothing, he turned the corner and walked into the dining room.

He saw the shape walk past him again and into the kitchen. Kurt followed after the shadows he was seeing, desperate to see his boyfriend again; maybe _he_ would give him some answers.

Blaine walked through the doorway leading to the basement steps. Kurt still hated the basement, but didn't hesitate to follow the shorter boy. "Blaine?" He went down the steps quickly, looking around in the dim lighting. He saw nothing. This made him really angry, and he stormed across the basement floor. "I'm not playing Hide-And-Seek, Blaine! You have to leave, now!"

There was laughter and the sound of bang snaps. Kurt spun around and saw twin boys; he furrowed his eyebrows and ran after them. "GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!"

Just as he turned the corner, he almost ran into someone…a woman who looked nearly drowned, and another who looked like she'd been stabbed. "Look at what he did to me," The larger one murmured, eyes heavily hooded.

Kurt let out a choked gasp, turning around again; this time he found himself face-to-face with two of the home invaders. "Excuse me, sir," The blonde girl mumbled as they stepped closer to him. "I'm hurt and needing some help."

Kurt let out a small scream, pushing past them and heading for the basement steps. Just before he got there, he saw someone with curly blonde hair, dressed like a doctor. "Are you here for the procedure?" He asked, squinting at Kurt hard. "Has my wife medicated you?" The doctor lifted up a very sharp looking knife.

Kurt screamed again as he ran up the steps, tears starting to spill down his cheeks, and into the kitchen. He made for the hallway, picked up his bag, and ran upstairs to his room, as far away from the ghosts as he could. As he got closer to his room, he realised that music was playing, probably from his iPod. Kurt paused outside his bedroom door, listening for anyone who was upstairs. When he heard no one, he opened his bedroom door and slammed it shut behind him.

He threw his bag onto his bed and walked over to his iPod dock to turn the music off. The silence that came afterwards only highlighted how heavily he was breathing. As Kurt backed away to sit on his bed, he found himself looking over at the chalkboard across the room.

_I LOVE YOU._

Kurt's face screwed up and he started to sob hard; he collapsed against the side of his bed, clutching the bedpost for support, and ran a hand through his immaculately styled hair. He found himself looking around hopelessly, and he saw his bag.

His bag had the pills Sebastian had given him.

_I want my Mom._

Kurt climbed up onto the bed, chest heaving, and started to search through it until he found the little bottle. After some more searching, he found the water bottle he'd been using for the day - he'd hardly drank any of it. The teenager opened the bottle of pills, emptying some into the palm of his hand, and putting them into his mouth. He then opened the bottle of water, and gulped some of it to help him swallow. Kurt continued this until all of the pills were gone, and he started to feel woozy.

He choked slightly as his vision started to falter, and he fell onto his side on the bed, resting his head on the duvet. His stomach was starting to hurt, and he cried out in slight pain as he slipped out of consciousness.

* * *

Blaine had opened the bedroom door just as Kurt slipped out of consciousness. His eyes widened as he took in everything that was going on; the pills, the water, his limp boyfriend…

Tears started to pool in his eyes, and he lunged across the room. "No, Kurt, no!" He lifted Kurt's hand, checking for a pulse…maybe he could still save him…

Blaine pulled Kurt's body off the bed, and started to drag him towards the door; once he'd gotten his boyfriend out the door, he had to get him to the bathroom. There was no other way to do it; he laid Kurt down on the floor, and started to drag him by the hand. "DON'T YOU DIE ON ME, KURT!" He screamed, half-sobbing. "DON'T YOU DIE!"

Blaine pulled Kurt into the bathroom, and then bent down to pick up his body; he stepped into the bathtub, pulling the other teenager with him. He laid them both down, Kurt on top of him. "DON'T YOU DIE ON ME!" He quickly reached for the tap to turn on the shower, cold water running. "KURT!"

The other boy was waking up. Blaine looked around, quickly before making up his mind; he quickly opened Kurt's mouth and shoved his fingers down to the back of his throat. He found the gag reflex, and he felt the other teenager start to cough. Kurt, eyes still shut, lurched forwards and puked on top of his jeans, vaguely aware of Blaine's hands on his back.

Kurt slowly opened his eyes, still coughing weakly. When he looked over his shoulder, he saw Blaine, who stroked a wet tuft of his hair back. As Kurt faced forwards again, Blaine started to press kisses to the back of his neck and shoulders, murmuring sweet nothings under his breath. Unable to help it, the taller teen started to sob again, hiding his head in his knees.

* * *

"So," Finn started, leaning forwards so that their voices wouldn't be overheard. "Have you tried anything again?"

"No," Trent muttered. "Nothing helps. I can't take this anxiety anymore Finn…I've met somebody. There's a real chemistry between us too…"

Finn grinned. "I'm no therapist, but I'm sure that's good. Ask her - him -…them out."

Trent looked down at the table. "I would love to, but what happens if he comes over? How do I explain why the mirror's covered up?"

Finn gripped the table tighter, trying not to get too angry. "Trent, you're doing this to yourself. I mean, you need to go back to your dorm and look in the mirror, and say those words. There's no Piggy Man!"

The chubbier boy looked down at the floor, somewhat ashamed. "Yeah…you're absolutely right. I want to do it. I can do it."

"When you do," Finn said, giving him a small but encouraging smile. "Then you'll be free to live your life."

* * *

Carole didn't often go to churches. She wasn't particularly religious, so she felt that there was no need to go every week or so. However, Nurse Angie had asked to meet at one of the ones nearby, and Carole had willingly agreed so that she could get her answers about the scan.

As the bells rang out, she walked up the aisle between the pews of the church, glad that she'd come when there wasn't a service on; that would have been awkward. She saw the round-face ex-nurse lighting a few candles in front of a bench and made her way over to her. "Angela?" The other woman turned to look at Carole, who just smiled at her with a friendly expression. "I'm Carole."

Angela just nodded, and walked away to sit down. Carole's smile disappeared, but she followed after her. "Thank you so much for agreeing to this," She started, going to sit next to her.

"Of course…" Angela stopped and lifted her hand up. "T-That's close enough."

Carole just raised her eyebrows and sat down where she was, keeping her eyes trained on the ex-nurse. "When you gave me the address, I didn't realise it was a church."

"It's where I feel safe."

When the younger woman didn't resume speaking, Carole started with her request. "Well, the hospital said you quit your job but they didn't say why. It's just that…I've been concerned because of the ultrasound; they said that the machine malfunctioned, but it seemed to me that you saw something that scared you-"

"Yes," Angela interrupted, looking up at the ceiling. "And I've been praying about it ever since." She eyed Carole slowly. "I saw the unclean thing that you carry in your womb; the Plague of Nations, the Beast."

Carole stared at Angela, knowing that the other woman must have been mentally unstable to think this. "Okay…so you didn't see anything…so…the machine malfunctioned…"

"It did not!" Angela snapped, appalled by the mention of it. "I saw the little hooves…"

Carole blinked, leaning away from the other woman. "Alright, you need some help." She stood up clumsily, edging out of the pew and down the aisle between the benches.

As she walked, the ex-nurse also stood up. "And the woman was full of the filthiness of her fornication!" She recited loudly, and Carole sped up her walking. "The mother of harlots and abominations of the Earth!"

* * *

Trent tried not to get too scared as he pulled the sheet away from the mirror in his dorm bathroom, a torch clutched to his chest. Looking around quickly, he leaned over to turn off the lights and shut the door. When he was done preparing, he shifted so that he was in the middle of the mirror, in front of the shower.

_You can do it._

He shut his eyes tightly and told himself to grow up a little bit; Finn was right. This was pathetic now. "Here Piggy Pig Pig." When he opened his eyes, he looked around the bathroom again; no one was there. Taking this as a good sign, he braced himself again. "Here…Piggy Pig Pig."

Again, no one appeared.

Trent gave a huge smile out of relief and put the torch down by the sink. He gave a small chuckle. "Here Piggy Pig Pig."

After this confident saying of the words, he heard the shower curtain open behind him; Trent spun around, only to see an overweight man dressed in black and holding a gun. "Who you calling a pig?"

There was a loud gunshot, and Trent fell to the floor. The dorm door opened, and another man walked in; he surveyed the scene and started to panic. "What the Hell did you do? This was supposed to be a robbery, now it's murder you asshole!"

As the two men escaped from the room, the larger one simply said, "He called me a pig."

"Well, we've gotta get out of here."

As they left, Trent died on the floor, a puddle of blood surrounding his head.

* * *

Sue and Isabelle had been joking around in the kitchen; Sue had snorted at a remark the younger woman had made, not quite believing anything she had to say. "I'm beginning to think you're a fraud," She remarked, standing up to make herself another coffee. "And that nail polish is vulgar."

Isabelle just smiled up at her. "Hey, don't take it out on me just because your dead daughter is mad at you."

Sue spun around, shocked at such a thing. "Why the Hell would you say that?"

"Because you're capable of handling the truth."

Sue couldn't disagree with that; slowly, she walked back to her seat at the table and sat down.

"I see it all the time," Isabelle continued, admiring the pattern of the table cloth. "The dead can hold a grudge better than most Scorpios."

There was a moment of silence between them. "I want to talk to her, Isabelle…I have one last thing that I want to say to her." Isabelle nodded and sat back, waiting for her to continue. "I really miss her too…she was the last of my kids. Her strength kept me going sometimes."

"She says that you should have told her that when she was still alive," The younger woman stated casually. "She's a feisty one, you know."

Sue chuckled to herself.

"You can talk to her, if you want to," Isabelle said gently, and Sue's small smile disappeared. "She's here. Come on." At this, she reached her hands out for Sue to take.

Sue hesitated at this, but then placed her hands in Isabelle's and took a deep breath. "Alright…Becky, I'm so sorry…I'm sorry because most of the time I was with you, especially when you were younger, I was overwhelmed." Sue stopped to scrub away a tear fiercely. "It wasn't easy being a single parent, you know. And you were a handful too…so I forgot to say the things that I wanted to." She paused, looking for the next words to say. "I'm so proud of you, Becky. I admire you so much; you overcame so much, despite what life handed to you…and I think you're one of the most beautiful people I've ever met, Becky."

Isabelle herself had started to cry; she wiped a tear away, sniffling a little. "She says thank you." Sue just nodded, not looking up from the table. "And that she knows. And that where she is now, on the other side…she's a pretty girl at last." At this, they both smiled and chuckled a little. However, Isabelle soon turned serious again. "She also wants you to know that she's grateful…" Sue smiled already, despite not hearing the rest of the sentence. "No…she's grateful that you didn't get her to the lawn of the old house." Sue frowned, looking surprised and shocked. "She doesn't want to be with Blaine. She's afraid of him, now that she knows the truth."

Sue stared at the younger woman, a flashback to the day running through her mind.

1994

"Please…please don't hurt him!…" Sue ran down the hall after the S.W.A.T team, yelling at the top of her lungs. "Just let me talk to him!" Before she could get to his bedroom door however, a cop turned around and stopped her; he wasn't strong enough to hold her back, so a couple of his colleagues helped. "BLAINE! NO…Get out of my way! He'll go peacefully you asses!"

The S.W.A.T team stormed into the teenager's room, and Blaine looked up at them with wide hazel eyes.

"He's just a little kid! BLAINE!"

They had their lasers pointed at him. Blaine blinked and slowly started to stand up, hands raised in defence; then, slowly, Blaine twisted his right hand around. His forefinger pointed towards his skull, the rest forming a tight fist with his thumb pointed upwards; a gun.

He smirked at the S.W.A.T team charismatically, and mimed shooting himself in the head, a light 'bang' escaping his lips. He slowly lowered his hand, assessing his options, and made a decision.

Blaine quickly ducked down to where his pillow was and pulled the gun he had from underneath it.

As he reared backwards, the S.W.A.T team all shot at the same time, again and again. As soon as they'd finished, Blaine collapsed backwards, falling onto the side of his bed and sliding to the floor. The blood was _everywhere_.

And then suddenly he found that he was looking at the leader of the team, who'd bent down to look at him. "Why did you do it?"

Blaine opened his mouth to answer, but never did; with one last choke, the life left him.

Outside, Sue had given up her whole tough act; she slid down the wall, head in her hands, and gave into her sobs.

2010

Kurt wasn't even reading the book; he just turned the pages, head resting on his hand as he stared at the pictures dully.

"I like that book too. I like fashion."

Kurt didn't even need to look up to know who that was. Nevertheless, he eyed the other teenager up, no emotion showing on his face. "Why do you like it?"

"Because it's free," Blaine replied, shrugging slightly in his white jacket and black polo shirt. "You can do whatever you like with it." He paused. "Are you going to tell your parents? You know…about the pills?"

"No," Kurt muttered, shutting his eyes tiredly. "I'm not sleeping a lot. I think I'm depressed."

"Are you?"

"I'm sad," Kurt stated, reopening his eyes.

Blaine looked down at him and nodded. "Me too." After a few seconds, the shorter boy looked down at the floor, as if not sure what to say. "Kurt…something's changed in you. Towards me…You're distant, cold, and I don't know what I've done." Blaine sniffled, tears forming in his eyes. "But…I'll leave you alone for now on, if that's what you want. Is that what you want?"

Kurt didn't answer.

"Do you know why I'd leave you alone?" Blaine continued, holding back sobs as best he could. "Because I care about your feelings more than mine. I love you…there, I said it, and not just on some chalkboard." The look in his eyes was so fiery and passionate that the taller teenager couldn't help but believe it. Blaine just looked his boyfriend straight in the eye, so that he knew he wasn't lying. "I would never let anybody or anything hurt you. I've never felt that way about anyone."

Kurt looked back down at his book, unable to come up with the right words to this speech. He shut his book and reached over to put it on his dresser before looking up at his boyfriend. "Come here."

Blaine blinked before moving to climb over the bedpost; he crawled up to where his boyfriend was lying, pressing his back to Kurt's chest so that they were spooning. The shorter boy reached back and pulled his boyfriend's hand in his own, their fingers clutched together tightly. "I'm tired," Blaine mumbled, resting his head on the pillow.

Kurt nuzzled his face into Blaine's neck. "Me too."

The two of them lay like that, Kurt holding Blaine, both exhausted and wishing they could stay like that forever; Kurt in the comfort of his room, and Blaine in the room where he'd died seventeen years ago.

**This has been my favorite one so far :D Reviews welcome!**


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